


The Anatomy of an Eternity

by SecretMaker



Series: Unremembered: Anatomy and related side stories [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Buckle up kids this is gonna be a wild ride, Dual Narrative, Like really slow, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 153,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9629399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretMaker/pseuds/SecretMaker
Summary: Some things are not better off unremembered.Kindaichi and Akira are in their first year of middle school, best friends though the universe is trying to tear them apart.Yuutarou and Kunimi are in their third year of college, total strangers though the universe is trying to bring them together.In a life of magic and chaos, when memory can't be trusted and nothing is as it seems, friendship is the only thing that matters.(aka the magic college au where Kunimi and Kindaichi were separated as kids and meet again years later)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY HERE WE GO  
> So I've actually got the first twenty chapters of this written (about 60 thousand words), but I'm gonna post once a week. And friends, when I say slow burn, I mean slow burn. I mean for this to be over 150k words long before the end.
> 
> A quick list of side pairings: UshiOiKage, KyouYama, WataYaha, TsukkiHina, HinaYachi. I may expand this list as the fic goes on, but that's the main ones for now :D

It was one of those days in the dead of winter when the air was saturated with so much frost magic that it made Yuutarou sneeze. He was the only thing alive in this quad, everyone else driven inside by the bitter cold. Yuutarou himself wasn’t supposed to be out just then, but he had been late to his history of werecreatures class, only to find a note posted on the door saying it was canceled because their professor couldn’t be bothered to leave his apartment in this kind of weather, and Yuutarou had stared at it in dismay for a good three and a half minutes before dragging himself out of the building. So now he was stuck sloughing back to his dorm on the other side of campus, wincing the entire time at the way the cold made the ground beneath his feet hard and uncooperative.

 

“It’s not _my_ fault,” he muttered to it, stomping his feet a little harder. He hated this time of year, when other elements snuck in and cut him off from his own. He could barely feel his magic now, locked far away from him beneath a slumbering layer of stubborn frost. His roommate was probably thrilled. Yuutarou sighs at the hoarfrost covering their windows as he walks up to the building, confirmation of his suspicions. He dug out his key and let himself in, tromping up the stairs with a huff and a grumble.

 

“Tsukishima, you better not have killed my plants,” he called as he let himself into the dorm. A last of cold air hit him and he scowled.

 

“Oh please,” said Tsukishima from where he was sprawled on the couch, his little siren boyfriend tucked up against him. “I couldn’t kill those things if I tried. They’re mutated or something.” Yuutarou crossed the room to where his line of houseplants stood, still green and lively despite the frost on the window next to them. Yuutarou touched the soil in one pot, pleased to find it still warm and responsive to him. He stroked the leaves of the plant, smiling to himself when it seemed to hum with pleasure at the touch.

 

“We should try that sometime,” hummed Hinata, his voice low and slow with sleep. “See if Tsukki’s magic is strong enough to break through the power of your love for them.” Yuutarou found himself considering for a moment, wanting to find out if his magic was truly stronger than Tsukishima’s. Then Tsukishima dropped a pillow over Hinata’s face, muffling him.

 

“Stop that,” he said. “No talking when you’re tired, you know that.” Hinata said something in reply, too faint for Yuutarou to hear, but it made Tsukishima’s ears turn pink so he decided he probably _didn_ _’t_ want to know.

 

“I’m going to the Daily Grind,” he said, dropping his bag on his bed and switching out the books inside. “Please refrain from canoodling until I’m out the door.” Tsukishima gave him a lazy wave, clearly already well on his way to falling asleep. Yuutarou shook his head, fighting back a surge of fondness for his surly roommate, and left the dorm once more.

 

Yuutarou loved one thing about his dorm, despite its distance from his classes and despite its cranky heater and rickety stairs and icy roommate, and that was that it was right across the street from the tiny coffee shop that, not subject to the university’s regulations, served enchanted drinks to anyone looking for a pick me up or a boost of charisma or concentration. It was one of Yuutarou’s favorite places in the world, and as he stepped through the door and listened to the tinkling of the little bells overhead, a rush of relief passed through him. He collapsed into the chair in the corner, dropping his bag and waiting for the line to go down. He watched in amusement as Kageyama, the snippy barista who always seemed to be working, attempted to hand off an order with his manager hanging all over him, clearly trying to flirt with both him and the customer. When Kageyama managed to elbow Oikawa away, the customer turned to go, and Yuutarou’s breath caught in his throat.

 

He was probably above average in height, though clearly shorter than Yuutarou himself, all slender, pale limbs and big, bored blue eyes half-hidden behind silky black hair. He was dressed in a thin grey t shirt and a pair of jeans, clearly not affected by the cold. He glanced at Yuutarou as he passed on his way out, and Yuutarou was struck by the steel wall just behind his gaze. Then in a tinkling of little bells he was gone, and Yuutarou was left with a pounding heart and a hand frozen halfway to his wallet. He stared at the place where the boy had disappeared for a moment before the sound of his name pulled him from his thoughts.

 

“Oh, _Kindaichi_ ,” purred Oikawa as Yuutarou snatched his wallet and crossed to the counter at last. There was a light in his eyes that put Yuutarou on edge. He shook his head and looked blankly at Kageyama.

 

“Uh,” he said intelligently. Kageyama rolled his eyes and pulled a cup from the stack, scribbling something on it and turning to the espresso machine. Oikawa snatched the cup, looked at what Kageyama had written, then nodded and handed it back. He leaned his elbows on the counter, considering Yuutarou like he was a puzzle to be taken apart and reshaped.

 

“I saw that, Kindaichi,” he said softly.

 

“Saw what, Oikawa-san?” Kindaichi asked, trying to appear cool and collected and probably failing miserably.

 

“Saw the way you looked at Kunimi-chan,” Oikawa replied happily. “Saw the way your whole aura lit up almost as bright as your face.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Oikawa-san,” Yuutarou said. Kageyama handed him his drink, a hot chai late he hadn’t realized he wanted, and Yuutarou turned away, striding across the shop to the sound of Oikawa’s laughter and Kageyama’s quiet scolding. He eased into his favorite chair, arranging his limbs carefully so that they were comfortable but out of the way, and dug a book out of his bag. He sipped his latte and did his homework, forgetting all about the beautiful boy with the icy eyes.

 

-

 

Yuutarou dreamed of his childhood that night, and of a friend he had all but forgotten. Small, warm hands clasped in his own. Quiet laughter from someone who almost never laughed. A face that danced on the edges of Yuutarou’s memory until it faded away altogether and Yuutarou woke feeling frustrated, though he couldn’t place why.

 

That morning, he ordered an extra shot of concentration in his coffee and shoved all thoughts of half-memories to the back of his mind. Finals would be starting the next week and Yuutarou had three papers to write and a presentation to prepare and nothing was going to distract him from it.

 

Nothing, perhaps, except for Oikawa, who had decided to grace Yuutarou’s every waking hour with his presence. Yuutarou had hidden in a quiet corner in the library, but Oikawa had found him and was now making himself at home sprawled across Yuutarou’s table. So far, he hadn’t said a word beyond the empty fluff he was always spouting, but Yuutarou recognized the sharp look in his eyes, and the danger it brought with it. He was reading Yuutarou, but what he was looking for was anyone’s guess. Yuutarou was doing a pretty good job of ignoring him, until the dream from the night before swirled to the front of his mind and he closed his book with an angry snap.

 

“Oikawa-san,” he growled. Oikawa didn’t react, too busy poking at the edges of the dream, a curious furrow to his brow.

 

“You don’t remember,” he murmured. “That’s why.”

 

“That’s why _what_?” Yuutarou asked. “Look, Oikawa-san, I have to get this paper done, so if you would just tell me what you’re looking for this would go a lot faster.”

 

“You used to be cuter, Kindaichi,” Oikawa chirped, easing out of Yuutarou’s mind and wriggling around so he took up even more space on the table. “All _yes, Oikawa-senpai,_ and _please, Oikawa-senpai._ What happened to that?” Yuutarou sighed, rubbing at his forehead to try and ease some of the headache forming there.

 

“I got to know you,” Yuutarou replied. It was true. A few years prior, Yuutarou would never have disagreed with Oikawa, would never have said anything that smacked of disrespect. But too many months as subject for Oikawa’s practice had given him as many new and humiliating insights into Oikawa’s mind as it had the reverse. Yuutarou knew Oikawa better than anyone should have ever had to, and Oikawa knew him just as well.

 

“No, you got to know Tobio-chan,” Oikawa growled. “Between him and Iwa-chan, no one I know respects me anymore.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Yuutarou said, propping a book open against Oikawa’s hip. Oikawa huffed, but he lay still enough for Yuutarou to finish his work, creating waves of shimmering color above their heads with lazy flicks of his fingers. Finally, Yuutarou sighed and moved his book back to the desk. “Sorry, Oikawa-san,” he mumbled. “I’m just really tired.”

 

“You’re working too hard, Kindaichi,” Oikawa said, stuffing any sign of genuine concern under layer upon layer of sing-song lackadaisicalness. Yuutarou saw right through it. He sighed and reached across his books to thread his fingers through Oikawa’s hair.

 

“You haven’t been sleeping again, have you?” he asked. Oikawa closed his eyes and didn’t answer. “Oikawa-san, I thought you were working on that.”

 

“I am,” Oikawa sighed, all the usual fight and glitter gone from his voice. “It’s not exactly a one-and-done kind of thing, Kindaichi. And when I get too tired, everyone else gets louder and it’s harder to block them out.”

 

“Why don’t you ask Kageyama for help?” Kindaichi asked. Oikawa’s shoulders stiffened and he shook his head.

 

“You of all people know I can’t do that,” he murmured. Yuutarou bit back a grimace and pulled his hand away, leaning back in his chair. He sighed, watching the lights Oikawa had conjured as they danced and shimmered now without his input. They were duller than Yuutarou had seen them in a very long time. He took a breath and tried to steel himself.

 

“You never told me what you were looking for earlier,” he said. A curl of vivid blue weaved its way through the lights, and Oikawa opened one eye to consider him. Yuutarou returned his gaze, letting his mental walls fall away and inviting Oikawa inside.

 

It was a strange sensation, having someone else in Yuutarou’s mind, poking and sifting through things like a tourist in a souvenir shop. Oikawa’s was a familiar presence, much softer than Yuutarou had expected the first time they had tried this. And he knew it was comforting for Oikawa too, to exist within someone else and not have to be responsible for his own mind for a while.

 

Oikawa went straight for Yuutarou’s memories of the day before, poking around in the coffee shop until he found the moment he’d reached the counter. Yuutarou snorted at Oikawa’s displeasure with the way his hair had been sticking up, then broke into a fit of laughter at Oikawa’s offense. Oikawa rolled his eyes and went back to his explorations. He seemed to grow bored as time went on, his mental fingers growing slower and their edges softer. Yuutarou watched with a smile as Oikawa fell asleep, right there on his table in a quiet corner of the library. He leaned forward to pull Oikawa’s glasses off, folding them carefully and setting them out of the way while he used his free hand to stroke Oikawa’s hair. He turned his attention back to his work, carefully rebuilding his walls. Oikawa slept on, and Yuutarou felt more at peace than he had in weeks.

 

Hours passed as Yuutarou worked his way through his paper and on to another, but it felt like only moments. He would probably have sat there forever had Iwaizumi not appeared with the setting sun, standing at Yuutarou’s shoulder with a look equal parts fond and exasperated.

 

“You let him in again, didn’t you?” he murmured. Yuutarou clawed his way back to full awareness with a sheepish smile. “Kindaichi, you know how dangerous that is.”

 

“He was so tired,” Yuutarou muttered. “You would’ve done it too.” Iwaizumi sighed.

 

“You’re probably right,” he said. Oikawa’s lights were still dancing above him, twisting and changing with the rhythm of his dreams. Iwaizumi frowned at them, then schooled his expression as he reached out to shake Oikawa awake.

 

“Iwa-chan, we had tofu last night,” Oikawa whined, sitting up slowly and rubbing at his eye with a fist. Yuutarou thought he looked sweet, like a kid. Oikawa grinned, and Yuutarou took back the thought. “Too late, Kindaichi,” purred Oikawa.

 

“Whatever it is, don’t torment him over it,” Iwaizumi scolded. “And come on. It’s your turn to make dinner and I want tofu.”

 

“But we had it last night,” Oikawa repeated even as he let Iwaizumi pull him up off the table and wrap an arm around his shoulders to lead him out of the library. Yuutarou watched them go, shaking away the tendrils of Oikawa’s presence that still lingered in the corners of his mind, making him sleepy and compliant. With a sigh, he moved his laptop to one side, clearing room for him to lay his head on his arms. He was going to survive this semester, no matter what it took.

 

-

 

Akira had just turned nine when they met. He had never been one for making friends, especially not at school, but the new kid had either not known or had willfully ignored this fact. He had sat down right next to Akira and introduced himself, all bright eyes and a wide smile with two teeth missing, one on top and one on bottom. Akira had given his name and nothing else, utterly uninterested in any conversation beyond that.

 

Kindaichi had evidently not cared in the slightest what Akira was interested in, because he launched into a rapid-fire explanation of his discovery of his affinity and how that had led to him sitting next to Akira on his first day in a magical school. That topic exhausted, he had started on his sister, then his parents, then his pet hamster, then the cat that lived two houses down, then the old woman who always patted his head when he stopped by her vegetable stall with his mother. By the time the school day was over, Akira had known more about Kindaichi than any of the classmates he had been with for the past four years.

 

Akira had been more than a little relieved when the final bell had rung and the teacher had released them to go home. He had set off down the path to his house, only to stop short when he realized he had company.

 

“What do you want?” he’d snapped, glaring at his new shadow. Kindaichi had looked down, twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt.

 

“Sorry,” he had muttered. “My house is this way. I won’t bother you if you don’t want.” Akira had blinked, surprised and a little guilty.

 

“’S fine,” he had grumbled, and set off down the path. He could still remember the way his chest had felt strangely warm when Kindaichi had gasped happily and hurried after him, starting up a new line of chatter as they went.

 

The next day, Akira had met Kindaichi at the corner by his house, and they had been walking together ever since.

 

Akira was twelve now, and Kindaichi was about to turn thirteen, and there was no one waiting at the corner when Akira left his house. He sighed, hiking his bag a little higher on his shoulder, and told himself not to look at the place where Kindaichi was supposed to be when he passed. He had known better than to think that Kindaichi would be there waiting, not when Akira had-

 

It didn’t matter. Akira couldn’t change what he was, any more than he could alter his affinity or turn the sky green. It simply wasn’t in his nature to be big or loud, to put effort into things he didn’t see the point in, to show off what he could do. He was fine this way.

 

Kindaichi wasn’t. He was constantly pulling at Akira, telling him to work harder or be bigger, bolder, more confident in his actions. To Kindaichi, only letting a little of his ability through at a time was an insult, both to their class and to Akira himself. It had been the biggest fight they’d ever had.

 

And now Akira was walking to school alone, something that had only happened twice in the past. Akira didn’t like it, one bit. It was too quiet without Kindaichi’s constant chatter.

 

Kindaichi still wasn’t there when Akira arrived in their classroom, but his jacket and bag were at his desk. Akira sighed and slid into his chair, pulling out his books and ignoring the world around him. Kindaichi arrived just as the bell rang and spent the entirety of their morning classes - the ones specific to their affinities, where they couldn’t have worked together anyway - ignoring him entirely. Akira bit his lip to quell the sigh and the discomfort curling in his chest, focusing on lighting and extinguishing the candles lined up across the room.

 

When lunch rolled around, Kindaichi stood abruptly and left the room as soon as the bell rang. Akira shrunk down in his chair. There had been a time when Akira had been used to being alone like this, but ever since Kindaichi had crashed into his life he had forgotten. He could hear the other students whispering about them, casting surprised glances Akira’s way. Akira closed his eyes, pretending they didn’t exist, and sunk deeper in his seat.

 

Something dropped into Akira’s lap, startling him out of his slouch. He picked up the little bag of salted caramel candies, then looked up to see Kindaichi biting his lip and looking at the ground between them.

 

“Sorry,” Kindaichi muttered. Akira wanted to cry, wanted to tell him that it was okay, that everything was okay as long as Kindaichi was talking to him again, wanted to throw his arms around Kindaichi’s neck. Instead he rolled his eyes and pulled out his literature homework.

 

“What’d you get for number eight?” he asked. Kindaichi made a noise like the air rushing out of a ball and collapsed into his chair. He dug out his worksheet and handed it over for Akira to examine while both of them ignored the little smile tugging at Akira’s lips.

 

-*-


	2. Chapter 2

Winter break brought with it a fresh chill and a sudden desertion that left Yuutarou wishing miserably that he had taken up his parents’ offer to visit his brother-in-law for the new year. But the little precog who lived next door had warned him against going home, staring up at him with those big eyes and that trembling little manner of hers, and he had called his parents not two minutes later to tell them he was staying on campus.

 

Now he was stuck wandering between his dorm and the coffee shop, bored out of his skull. He had even watched every episode of the trashy drama Oikawa had been pestering him about for the past six months, and now he didn’t even have that to distract himself. He frowned to himself, staring at the contents of his bag. His sketchbook was sitting there still, neglected during finals and then ignored after in favor of wallowing in boredom. Now, though, his fingertips tingled with the thought of creating again. He pulled out the sketchbook and thumbed slowly to the first blank page, then paused, considering.

 

Oikawa had said once that he loved it when Yuutarou drew, because it changed the feel of his mind. Kageyama had said that it made him soft and slow. Oikawa had explained that he meant it was inviting, a comfortable place to rest. Yuutarou had told them both to shove it.

 

He didn’t feel very soft now, or inviting. Now, he felt like a storm, like a fault line just waiting for the push to trigger an earthquake. It was lurking, just under his skin, as he dug around for his little bag of pencils.

 

Charcoal was his favorite, smooth and bitter like a cup of black coffee, but there was something about graphite that day. As he pulled out a thin, hard pencil and drew its tip along his thumb, the hard, star-like quality of it seemed to echo something deep within Yuutarou. He considered the page, then flicked his wrist in a single, thin line.

 

Once the drawing was begun, it seemed to spring forth of its own accord. Yuutarou’s hand flew across the page, sketching here and smudging there, pulling new life out of the paper and pigment. It wasn’t until he was nearly done that he even realized what he had drawn.

 

“That’s pretty,” commented Oikawa, whose broom and dustpan were clearly just an excuse to hover around Yuutarou’s chair. “It’s a dahlia, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Yuutarou said softly. It bloomed across the right side of the page, all tiny petals in a thick, full bloom. It was tucked behind someone’s ear, half-formed and uncertain. Yuutarou frowned and turned the page.

 

“Ooh, draw me!” Oikawa crowed when he realized Yuutarou was starting over. He dropped his broom and threw himself into the chair opposite Yuutarou, posing drastically with one hand folded under his cheek and the other thrown out like a king’s waiting for a supplicant’s kiss. Yuutarou rolled his eyes and began a new sketch, just to spite him. Angry brow line, narrow eyes, a permanent scowl despite the amused uptick of lips. Kageyama was much more fun to draw when he wasn’t aware he had an audience, much less conscious of his microexpressions and the amusement played across his face for anyone to see, if they knew where to look. By the time Oikawa was fidgeting and demanding to know if he was finished yet, Yuutarou had captured three different layers of the fond look Kageyama reserved for Oikawa, kittens, and magic. Finally, Oikawa huffed and threw himself out of his chair, leaning over to see the page. He went still and his cheeks turned pink and he mumbled something under his breath.

 

“What was that?” Yuutarou teased. Oikawa glared at him, glancing to see if anyone else was in earshot.

 

“I asked if I could have that,” he muttered.

 

“Why?” Yuutarou pressed. Oikawa growled.

 

“Because,” he snapped. “You know damn well why, now are you going to keep teasing me, or are you going to give it to me?”

 

“Both.” Yuutarou tore the page neatly out of his book, handing it over. “Do you want me to do one of-”

 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Oikawa snarled. Yuutarou grinned and started doodling the chain of paper snowflakes dangling above the counter.

 

Yuutarou was probably fifteen pages deeper in his sketchbook when Iwaizumi came in, bringing with him that same dark-haired boy that Oikawa had teased him about a few weeks prior. He spared Yuutarou a glance, something curious dancing in his eyes, then turned away as he and Iwaizumi reached the counter.

 

“Iwa-chan!” chirped Oikawa, nudging Kageyama away from the register. “And Kunimi-chan! What a pleasant surprise!”

 

“I told you I was coming, dumbass,” Iwaizumi snarled. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

“Can’t,” Oikawa hummed as he considered Kunimi and then pulled a cup from a stack. “Not until Yahaba-chan shows up. And explains why he’s late, because really this is ridiculous.”

 

“Fine,” Iwaizumi snarled. “In that case, give me a-”

 

“Already on it, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said as he handed Kageyama the cup and pulled another out for Iwaizumi.

 

“I told you not to do that,” Iwaizumi muttered, but it was a half-hearted scolding.

 

“You know full well that if it bothers you I’ll stop,” Oikawa said. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Yuutarou watched Oikawa pour a ridiculous amount of sugar, milk, and syrup into the cup before filling what little space was left with coffee and handing it off. He snapped his eyes to his sketchbook as Iwaizumi turned around, fighting against the smile that rose to the surface. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the pair took a table across the cafe from him, talking to one another in low voices. Then he looked down at the pencil in his hand and bit back a sigh.

 

There was nothing left now, nothing but that Dahlia and the face he couldn’t quite remember. If he thought hard enough, he could still feel the soft hair that had brushed his fingertips as he had slipped the flower into place, but the name, the face, and everything about the person the flower belonged to was gone. Yuutarou closed his sketchbook and his eyes, leaning his head back against the back of his chair. It was quiet now, just the sounds of quiet conversation from Iwaizumi and Kunimi one one side and Oikawa humming something under his breath while Kageyama wiped down the counter. If he tried, he could fall asleep here easily.

 

He opened his eyes and put his things away. He could feel Kageyama’s curious gaze on him as he left the cafe, but he didn’t acknowledge it or Oikawa’s whining about a goodbye. He stepped aside as soon as he was outside, holding the door open for Yahaba, then turned and began the walk back to his dorm.

 

Yuutarou’s face was hot, despite the cold air. His hands felt shaky and his heart was beating faster than normal, and deep in the pit of his stomach something was moving, stirring in a sluggish manner as though it had been asleep for a very, very long time. And Yuutarou knew, just _knew,_ that it had something to do with the boy Iwaizumi had brought with him.

 

Kunimi, Oikawa had called him. Something about that name tugged at the edges of Yuutarou’s mind, the same way the dahlia in the drawing had. Something about a school and an explosion of light and power and the heat that had come along with both. Something old, something painful, something Yuutarou had clearly done a very good job of forgetting.

 

But it was more than that, he realized as he let himself into his room. Kunimi was _pretty_ , with those delicate features and those fathomless blue eyes. Yuutarou frowned to himself, looking at his row of potted plants. He wasn’t the type to get caught up over the way someone looked, not in the slightest. He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen someone attractive enough to look twice at, and every time it had only been a fleeting thought. He didn’t get swept away by pretty faces or big eyes, didn’t fall all over himself to flirt like Oikawa or go all quiet and blushy like Tsukishima. Yuutarou simply wasn’t wired that way.

 

So then why couldn’t he stop wondering what Kunimi’s voice sounded like, or if his hair was really as silky as it looked? Why did he want nothing more than to strike up a conversation with Kunimi, to talk his ear off in a way he simply hadn’t since he was a kid?

 

Yuutarou let out a groan, long and loud, and slapped his hands over his cheeks. Clearly the loneliness on campus was getting to him. He shook his head and grabbed his toiletry bag from its place under his desk. A hot shower would surely help to clear his thoughts, and maybe dispel some of the chill that still lingered with him even indoors.

 

-

 

Tsukishima returned three days later, and with him came Hinata. Yuutarou had never been happier to see the little ball of activity and magic, but when Hinata came crashing through the door with Tsukishima’s bag draped over his shoulder and launched into a description of their visit to their hometown, Yuutarou had listened eagerly.

 

“Shouyou, you’re talking too much,” Tsukishima scolded, dropping face-first onto his bed without so much as removing his shoes. Hinata spared him a glance, then continued his story with equal energy. Yuutarou smiled and pulled his feet closer to himself, leaving space for Hinata to climb onto the foot of his bed and describe the way Tsukishima had made a little girl cry on New Year’s Day with all the grand gestures it required.

 

“So what’d you do over break?” Hinata asked, apparently done with his story.

 

“He probably stayed either here or in the cafe all week,” Tsukishima said without lifting his face from the pillows.

 

“No, he didn’t!” Hinata shouted. “You didn’t, did you?”

 

“Sorry,” Yuutarou said with a shrug. “That’s exactly what I did.”

 

“You’re so boring!” Hinata shouted. “Why are you so boring?”

 

“Sorry,” Yuutarou said with a shrug. Hinata scowled.

 

“Well, we’re back now, so you should come out to the movies with us or something,” he said. “If you want.” Yuutarou shrugged again.

 

“What’s playing?” he asked, just to send Hinata off into a long-winded explanation of an action movie trailer he had seen the week before, all while Tsukishima corrected him here and there. Yuutarou smiled, happy to just have people around him again.

 

They ended up going out that very afternoon, Hinata and Yuutarou bundled up against the cold while Tsukishima wore nothing but skinny jeans and a t shirt. Hinata took great offense to this, and he made sure everyone in the vicinity knew what an injustice it was that ice mages were immune to the cold. By the time they got to the theater Yuutarou found himself agreeing with his every word, and Tsukishima had to slap a hand over Hinata’s mouth to stop him from taking it further.

 

The theater was much more crowded than Yuutarou had expected. He bought their tickets in exchange for Tsukishima buying the popcorn, and filed into a row near the back, sitting to Hinata’s left with a smile on his face. Movement caught the corner of his eye, but by the time he turned to look whatever had caused it was gone. Yuutarou frowned and turned to ask Hinata if he had seen it, but Hinata was busy curling up against Tsukishima’s side. Yuutarou shook his head and turned back to the screen, just as the movie started.

 

-

 

The first year of junior high brought with it greater expectations and higher standards for the amount of power put behind each spell and incantation. It was all Akira could do not to crumble under the pressure it brought.

 

“I just don’t get it,” Kindaichi said one day while they lazed around in Akira’s room, ignoring their elemental history homework. “You’ve got the raw power. Just don’t hold back so much every once in a while and they’ll get off your case.”

 

“If I do that, they’ll expect it all the time,” Akira sighed. “It’s better this way.”

 

“If you say so,” Kindaichi muttered. “I just. I’m jealous, I guess. You’ve got all the power in the world and you never use it. Meanwhile I can barely keep a daisy alive. I’m gonna get knocked back to a human school by the time the year’s up.”

 

“No you’re not,” Akira snapped. “You’re going to do fine, okay? You just gotta stop focusing on everyone around you and start thinking about yourself.”

 

“Maybe.” Kindaichi didn’t look convinced. That had happened a lot lately. Kindaichi would get so caught up in how much power their classmates had, how long or large or loud their spells were compared to his, and he would grow quiet and shy. It wasn’t the Kindaichi Akira knew, and it was starting to scare him. But the more he tried to pull his friend out of these slumps, the more Kindaichi would smile and brush it off and let the problem fester beneath the surface.

 

As he watched Kindaichi frown sightlessly at the book in front of him, an idea began to form in his mind, hazy and uncertain, but more than Akira had come up with over the past several months. With a mental shrug he threw caution to the wind and decided to give it a try.

 

“Hey, my mom wanted me to pick some leaves for her today. You wanna go to the park with me?” Kindaichi looked up at him, eyes narrowed in distrust, but Akira simply gave him a blank stare as usual. Evidently appeased, Kindaichi nodded and stood, grabbing his coat off of the bedroom floor.

 

The park near Akira’s house was ancient, part of some long-dead lord’s massive estate or something that had been turned into a historic preserve and communal land. Akira had wandered these paths more than he cared to remember when he had been pretending to go out with friends in order to keep his mother from worrying, back before he had met Kindaichi. Now that he really did have a friend with him, the paths seemed much more welcoming than they ever had before.

 

“So, what kind of leaves did your mom want?” Kindaichi asked when they had walked long enough that the sound of the road had faded behind them.

 

“You’ll see,” Akira answered, turning onto a little side path. Kindaichi made a questioning noise, but followed him regardless.

 

Perhaps it was because he was waiting for it, but Akira knew the instant Kindaichi caught sight of the tree. He went suddenly stiff, his breath catching in his throat, and he tripped over a root in the path. Akira caught him with a quiet laugh.

 

“Most people have that reaction,” he said as he nudged Kindaichi to his feet. “It’s over a thousand years old, kept alive by the magic of the nuns at the shrine.” Kindaichi nodded dumbly, stepping forward.

 

The tree looked as ancient as it was. It soared above everything else in the area, its twisting and gnarled branches held aloft with the same dignity Akira saw in the shrine’s head priestess. Several of its branches had stooped to brush the ground and taken root as new trees, siblings to the original that fawned at its feet like the court of some great monarch. Its leaves were lush and full, a more vibrant green than anything Akira had seen elsewhere, but he knew that what he saw was only the beginning.

 

Kindaichi faltered as he stepped forward. His face was slack, his jaw hanging open and his eyes filled with a childish awe and a twinge, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be there. Akira knew that there was a current in the earth here, a swell of magic that he could only just feel but that Kindaichi knew as intimately as his own heartbeat. This was a place meant for earth magi, a place to bolster and inspire them. Akira had known this, but it still surprised him just how strong of a reaction Kindaichi had.

 

“Come on,” he murmured, slipping his hand into Kindaichi’s. “This way.”

 

He led them to a little table set up to one side of the great tree, where one of the priestesses was sitting with a needle and thread, stitching together a charm. He bowed to her, nudging Kindaichi until he did the same, and she smiled up at them.

 

“Akira,” she said in a voice not unlike the rustle of wind through leaves. “So this is the boy you’ve told me so much about.”

 

“Kindaichi Yuutarou,” Akira told her. She smiled and stood, holding out her hands to Kindaichi. He flushed and placed his in hers, and she smiled wider.

 

“You have a wonderful gift, Kindaichi-kun,” she said. Then she turned briskly and pulled two packages from beneath her table, handing the larger to Akira and holding the smaller in her hand. “The leaves I give Akira-kun for his mother are from the younger trees,” she explained. “They are less powerful than those of the Great Tree, but still magical. This,” she handed the small box to Kindaichi slowly, “ _is_ from the Great Tree. It is a very precious relic, and it will bring you great fortune.”

 

Kindaichi opened the box to reveal a small glass pendant, the tiniest of leaves suspended in its depths. His eyes grew bright as he clutched it close to his chest. He bowed again to the priestess, and she laughed, waving them both away. Akira smiled to himself as he tugged Kindaichi back down the path toward the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧:


	3. Chapter 3

The end of break brought with it new classes, and while Yuutarou never enjoyed learning new routines and new normals, he did appreciate the opportunities the change in term brought with it. As he filed into a seat in the front and to the left of his advanced elemental theory class, he fidgeted with the cord around his neck, unable to keep still. He kept his eyes on the front of the room as the seats filled in around him, too nervous to pay much attention. Then something familiar caught at the edge of his vision and his heart leapt into his throat, suddenly certain that he was about to find something he hadn’t even known he had lost.

 

But it was just Kunimi, sitting in the only empty desk left, the one directly to Yuutarou’s right. He glanced up, nodding in greeting, and started digging in his bag. Yuutarou snapped his eyes back to his own desk, biting the inside of his cheek. A part of him wished the ground would open up and swallow him, but before he could work himself into a full-blow panic the door opened one last time and an old man in pajama pants and a trench coat came bustling up to the front of the room.

 

“Sorry I’m late everyone,” he said in a voice that sounded like it was more used to laughing than anything else. “I didn’t want to come, so I overslept.” He was met with nervous titters from the class and he set his bag on the desk and turned to face them, leaning against its surface. “So, welcome everyone to advanced elemental construction theory, or as I like to call it, the biggest waste of time and money this university has to offer. None of us wants to be here long, so I’ll make this brief.

 

“This class is required because it’s important to understand the ways in which magics from different disciplines interact with each other. As such there will only be one major assignment for the entire term, and it will require you to partner up with someone from a different discipline than you. Yes, I know this sucks, and no, there’s nothing I can do to change it. This is a department requirement, and I have no power over it.” He paused, scanning the room as if waiting for dissent. “Man, this is a quiet class,” he said. “I get that it’s before noon, but come one, aren’t _any_ of you going to swear at me?”

 

“Is there any point in swearing at you?” called Kunimi, the sudden noise making Yuutarou jump. “You still have to give us the assignment, right?” The professor grinned, a slow, delighted thing that stretched out his face and looked very much like it belonged there.

 

“What’s your name, kid?” he asked.

 

“Kunimi Akira.”

 

“Well, Kunimi Akira-kun, you are correct,” the professor said. He stepped around the desk and picked up a marker, writing on the whiteboard with quick, decisive movements that created a near-illegible scrawl of dates and labels. “The point of this assignment is to look at magic that’s unfamiliar to you and understand what it offers to the world. That way you can better grow in your own magic, and better face a quickly globalizing world, bla bla bla. Between the two of you, you will come up with an original project utilizing the strengths of both of your magics or addressing their weaknesses in such a way as to benefit society in some way. You will submit a proposal one third of the way through the term, and if it is approved then you will need to implement your project on a small scale at the end of the second third and on a larger scale by the end of term. If your proposal is not approved the first time, you will need to revise it for the second third and implement your small scale project by the third, and if it is not approved the second time you will have to talk to me so we can work out what on earth is going on.” He turned away and pulled a stack of cards from his bag, waving a hand over them. He stepped forward to snatch a hat off of a student in the second row and dumped the cards inside. “Now, since you’ll be working in pairs, I’m only going to offer the magic psychic hat to every other person, and if I’ve done this right we should get even pairings, but don’t hold your breath because I’ve only had one cup of coffee today.”

 

Yuutarou watched as the professor offered the hat to students one by one and looked at the card they drew. He worked his way between desks, starting at the end farthest away from Yuutarou. The farther he got without anyone calling Yuutarou’s name, the tighter anxiety pooled in the pit of his chest. Finally, he reached Yuutarou’s desk and handed the hat to Kunimi, who pulled out the last card with an unimpressed raise of his eyebrow.

 

“Well, it _is_ a magic psychic hat,” the professor said softly, tossing it back to its owner. “Or at least, it was, for a minute. Now it’s just ugly again.” Kunimi nodded and set the card down on his desk as the professor stepped up to the front of the room again. “Now that we all know who our partners are, I’m gonna give you some time to exchange numbers and set up a plan to get together and work on your assignment. Be sure to pick up a syllabus and an assignment sheet before you leave, and if anyone from the department comes in make sure to let them know that I gave you a very serious lecture before being called away suddenly to deal with a very important emergency.” With that, he picked up his bag, pulled on his coat, and swept out of the room. There was a pause before the sound of murmuring and the shuffling of supplies being put away filled the room. Yuutarou took a deep breath and turned to face Kunimi.

 

“You’re an earth mage,” Kunimi said without looking up at him. Yuutarou blinked.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “You?”

 

“Fire.” Kunimi looked up sharply, something in his eyes daring Yuutarou to comment. Yuutarou only shrugged and pulled his planner out of his bag.

 

“So I have class in the mornings and early afternoons usually, but I’m free after this one every Monday and Wednesday, after one-thirty on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and after noon on Fridays,” he said, tapping the blocks where his classes were laid out in his planner. Kunimi stared at him for a moment longer, then shook his head.

 

“I’m in class basically from ten to five-thirty on Mondays and Wednesdays, and I work Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays,” he said softly.

 

“So looks like Sundays and Thursday afternoons are the only times we don’t overlap,” Yuutarou said. “Do you want to meet up after my class this week, so we can start brainstorming?”

 

“You’re eager,” Kunimi muttered. Heat climbed to Yuutarou’s cheeks and he looked at his desk.

 

“I’m kind of a horrible procrastinator,” he admitted. “If I don’t get started on something right away, it kind of doesn’t get done.” Yuutarou must have started hallucinating, because he was certain he heard Kunimi chuckle.

 

“Okay,” Kunimi said at last. “What time does your class get out?”

 

“O-one-thirty,” Yuutarou answered. Kunimi nodded.

 

“Then we can meet at the Daily Grind at two if you want,” he said.

 

“Y-yeah, that sounds good,” Yuutarou said. He wondered why on earth he was stuttering, but thankfully it didn’t seem like Kunimi noticed.

 

“Okay then,” Kunimi said. And then he was scribbling something on the card he had gotten from the professor and handing it over, and then he was standing and crossing to the professor’s desk, and then he was gone and Yuutarou was left with the feeling that he had just missed something important. He glanced down at the card.

 

There was a phone number written neatly across the bottom, but that wasn’t what drew Yuutarou’s attention. Instead, it was the card itself, the way it felt warm in his hand and the way both his name and Kunimi’s were emblazoned across the top. There was a symbol there too, a ball of some sort swirling with colors that seemed to dance the more Yuutarou looked at it, though he couldn’t make out what exactly it was supposed to be. He shook his head and slid the card into his planner.

 

He had no other classes that day, and since the professor had ended so early his free time stretched endless and daunting out in front of him. He sighed and slipped his planner into his bag, heaving himself from his chair. Besides a pair of girls talking quietly in the back corner, Yuutarou was the only one left in the classroom. He picked up a syllabus and an assignment sheet from the desk and tried not to think too hard. Thinking led to loneliness and that was the one thing he couldn’t afford to let at him. Not again.

 

-

 

“You know, for the amount of time and money I spend here, you’d think you would give me some sort of loyalty bonus,” Yuutarou said as he flopped into his usual chair at the Daily Grind. Kageyama glanced at him from his place seated opposite, but didn’t respond.

 

“Tell me, is he always this friendly, or is it just special treatment for special customers?” Tsukishima asked, draping himself across the couch that stretched between Yuutarou’s chair and Kageyama’s.

 

“You could stop antagonizing him,” Yuutarou offered. Tsukishima hummed as though considering it, then shook his head.

 

“Nope,” he said, popping his lips on the end of the word. “I’m an antagonistic person, you know. I’ve found it’s best to not fight with my own nature.” Yuutarou rolled his eyes, fingering the cord around his neck. He sighed and let it drop.

 

“When’s Shouyou supposed to be here again?” he asked. Tsukishima craned his neck to glance at the clock hanging behind them.

 

“Any time now,” he said. “His intro to Italian class got out ten minutes ago.”

 

“Why the fuck is Hinata in an Italian class?” Kageyama asked. Tsukishima grinned, something slow and wicked and tinged with that disgusting fondness he always got when talking about Hinata.

 

“He didn’t believe me when I said it wasn’t an invocation class,” he said. “Except he couldn’t remember the word for invocation, so he insisted he was right and I didn’t know what I was talking about because I’m a pre-law major and not in the college of magics, and then he signed up for it anyway. He’s probably so pissed right now.”

 

“I would ask why you didn’t just explain it to him, but I know both of you too well for that,” Yuutarou muttered. Tsukishima opened his mouth, clearly about to let fly some sharp comment, when the door burst open and Hinata stumbled in riding a swell of icy wind.

 

“Ah, Shouyou,” Tsukishima said pleasantly, as if his entire being didn’t light up at the sight of Hinata. “How was your class?”

 

Yuutarou watched the cogs turn behind Hinata’s eyes as he decided how much power he was about to give his boyfriend. Hinata smiled, dropping his bag in front of the couch and climbing to sit in the space between Tsukishima’s legs.

 

“It was great,” he said, his voice all sunshine and sugar. “I think I’m gonna really enjoy it.” He locked eyes with Tsukishima and began a battle of wills that probably would have lasted all night had Kageyama not cleared his throat.

 

“My lunch break only lasts forty-five minutes, and I’m not going to spend it watching you two eye-fuck each other,” he said. “Are we gonna go over this econ homework or not?”

 

“Fine,” Tsukishima groaned, tearing his eyes away from a giggling Hinata. Yuutarou pretended he couldn’t see the way Tsukishima was blushing all the way down his neck and under his collar, pulling out his book instead and turning to the chapter they had gone over in class the day before.

 

-

 

Kindaichi wore the leaf around his neck every day after their visit to the tree, and Akira couldn’t help but feel proud about that.

 

Whether it was because of the talisman or some newly-awoken confidence from the tree itself, Kindaichi’s performance in class rose drastically, and Akira felt a little proud about that too. Mostly though, he was just happy that Kindaichi seemed happier now.

 

But the winter benchmark evaluations were looming nearer and nearer, and Akira had a sinking feeling that things were about to change drastically. Kindaichi had stopped bothering him about letting more of his power go during class, but he could see it in his eyes. Kindaichi was waiting for something too, and Akira wasn’t sure if he knew what it was either.

 

His mother noticed it, he knew. He saw it in the constant downward-pull of her lips, in the way her eyes would linger on the drawer where he had put the brochures for all those academies, hoping they would be forgotten. He knew she didn’t understand his choice, and the fact that she had accepted it, even if only a little, meant a lot to him. But he couldn’t tell her that, couldn’t tell her that the pressure from his choice was beating down on him like a constant torrent of icy rain.

 

So he started spending more time at Kindaichi’s house, but that was no relief either. Though it freed him from his mother’s worried glances, it forced Akira to confront another problem he didn’t want to face.

 

“You’re so warm,” Kindaichi murmured, his breath fanning across the crook of Akira’s neck. Akira gripped his pencil tighter, gritting his teeth.

 

“Kindaichi, we’re here to do homework, not to nap,” Akira said, and the irony wasn’t lost on him that he was the one denying them sleep. Kindaichi simply hummed and nuzzled closer to Akira.

 

A year ago, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Akira was naturally warm, he knew it, and Kindaichi for all his long limbs and odd angles was nice to cuddle with. A year ago, there wouldn’t have been this fluttering in his stomach or this pounding in his chest. A year ago, Akira wouldn’t have had to work so hard to keep from leaning into Kindaichi’s embrace and never leaving again. A year ago, the thought of leaving wouldn’t have scared him so much.

 

“Where do you want to go to high school?” The suddenness of the question, spoken in a sleepy voice against Akira’s shoulder, made him jump. It had nothing to do whatsoever with the topic behind it, nothing at all.

 

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Akira lied. “I figured I’d just go local.”

 

“Then I will too,” Kindaichi murmured. Before Akira could comment on that, before he could scramble to hide the warmth it planted in his chest, Kindaichi’s breath turned slow and deep. Akira froze, unsure for a second. When Kindaichi didn’t react to the sudden stillness, he figured he was well and truly asleep. With a quiet sigh, Akira ran his fingers gently up and down Kindaichi’s spine, leaning his cheek against Kindaichi’s crown. He felt warm, warm in a way that couldn’t be explained by his magic or by the space heater chugging away in the corner. And no matter how hard he pretended not to, he knew what that warmth was.

 

But winter benchmark evaluations were coming, and Akira’s magic was curling under his fingertips, waiting for his call. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t keep it stuffed down anymore. Soon, the nights spent sneaking out to hurl fireballs around the charred hillside just outside of town wouldn’t be enough to assuage the beast in his chest that slumbered fitfully during the day.

 

There were rumors, too, of seraphs, of living, breathing magic amplifiers who would be at the exams to ferret out latent and suppressed power. If the rumors were true, there would be nothing Akira could do to keep his fire from taking over and ruining everything.

 

It was already getting hard. Every time Akira’s emotions spiked, every time Kindaichi smiled at him or he got particularly frustrated at something, his fingertips would grow warm and he would have to carefully brush sparks out of his hair and clothing. He had gone to the hillside three times that week, and the more sleep he lost the harder it was to keep everything in check. Akira needed something more, but he knew better than to mess around with dangerous wards and suppressants. He closed his eyes and turned his face into Kindaichi’s hair.

 

If he couldn’t get it under control, if he couldn’t stuff and push and mold his power into something tame and unremarkable, he would lose Kindaichi. Whether by fire or by bureaucracy, Akira’s magic would tear them apart. He couldn’t let that happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Thanks to the buffer I gave myself before I started posting this, Anatomy is now 66,000 words long, making it the longest thing I've ever written! And still going! I'm dead inside!


	4. Chapter 4

 

The first time Yuutarou met up with Kunimi after class, he was thirty-six minutes late. He staggered into the Daily Grind, out of breath and fighting down an anxiety attack, looking around wildly. There was no sign of Kunimi at any of the tables.

 

"I was wondering when you were going to show up!" Oikawa called from the counter. Yuutarou walked up, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. "Kunimi-chan was in here earlier," Oikawa continued happily. "He said he was looking for you."

 

"Did he tell you where he went?" Yuutarou asked.

 

"Well, no, he didn't _tell_ me," Oikawa hummed, fiddling with the stack of cups to his left in that way he always did when he was trying to be cute.

 

"Oikawa-san," Yuutarou sighed.

 

"He's sitting in your usual corner," Kageyama said, batting Oikawa's hand away from the cups. "He stepped outside to take a call." Yuutarou thanked Kageyama and placed an order before shuffling back to his favorite seat. Sure enough, there was another bag sitting neatly against the arm of the couch, one that Yuutarou was pretty sure was Kunimi's. Yuutarou sat and pulled his planner and a notebook out of his bag and settled into his chair to doodle until Kunimi returned. Kageyama brought his hot chocolate, laced with calming magic, and left without a word.

 

"Sorry about that." The voice, quiet and low and surprisingly soothing, made Yuutarou jump with a squawk, only just saving his drink from sloshing down his front. Kunimi raised an eyebrow at him as he sat.

 

"No, no problem," Yuutarou said, waving his free hand in front of him. "I was late, anyway. Which, sorry. I got kinda caught up by my roommate's boyfriend." Kunimi's brow arched higher. "What?"

 

"Nothing," Kunimi said, looking away quickly. Yuutarou thought over the exchange, and his cheeks went hot.

 

"Not like that!" he cried. "Hinata's a siren, and sometimes he forgets to control his voice. He accidentally charmed a couple of our classmates, and I had to help keep them quarantined until they came out of it." Kunimi said nothing, but Yuutarou would have sworn he seemed more relaxed after the explanation. He shook his head and opened his notebook. "Have you thought about the project at all?" he asked.

 

"...No," Kunimi admitted, his shoulders hunching slightly.

 

"That's good, because I haven't either," Yuutarou said. "Okay so the assignment sheet says we either have to combine the strengths or address the weaknesses of each other's affinity, right?" Kunimi nodded. "So maybe we should start by making a list of strengths and weaknesses? That way we can see where they overlap and maybe build from there." Kunimi nodded again, pulling his own notebook and pen out of his bag. Yuutarou offered him a brief smile, and looked down at his own page.

 

He was about halfway down the page, wondering if the frost problem was something a fire mage could help with, when Oikawa appeared at his shoulder.

 

"Is everything okay over here?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. Yuutarou looked up at him, brow furrowed and mouth open to ask about it, but Oikawa wasn't looking at him.

 

"Fine, Oikawa-san," Kunimi said without looking up from his page. Oikawa frowned at him.

 

"Kunimi-chan, I-"

 

"It's _fine_ ," Kunimi interrupted, looking up at last. Some of the steel wall in Kunimi's eyes had fallen away, and Yuutarou's breath caught in his throat at the nameless emotion swirling in their depths. He stared at Oikawa, and Yuutarou had spent enough time around psychics to know when someone was talking to one. So he ducked his head and returned to his notes, trying to ignore them. After some time, Oikawa snorted and stomped away, clearly dissatisfied with whatever conversation they had had. Kunimi looked back at his list, and Yuutarou decided it was better not to ask.

 

Still, he couldn't get the question out of his head. Whatever Oikawa had come over about had clearly upset him, and whether it was the prompt or the concern itself, Kunimi was upset too. And yet, Oikawa had dropped the subject. It didn't fit with anything Yuutarou knew about either of them.

 

Not that Yuutarou really knew much at all about Kunimi. They had only met that week, and since Kunimi had been sick on Wednesday, this was the only time they had spoken other than the brief conversation the first day. He may as well have been a stranger. Yuutarou pushed down the curious animal in his chest, the one that wanted him to ask what was wrong, to be concerned for Kunimi, and kept his eyes glued to his notebook. The words swirled together, but Yuutarou didn't bother trying to make sense of them. He knew they would sort themselves out with time.

 

They always did.

 

Yuutarou was about to draw his seventeenth peony in the margins of his notebook when a buzz and a stifled groan drew his attention away. Kunimi was pulling his phone out of his pocket, glaring at it like it was responsible for all the suffering in the world. He sighed and looked up at Yuutarou, his face going blank once more.

 

“That’s my boss,” he said quietly. “Apparently every last one of my coworkers is sick and if I don’t come in to work today the entire business will go under and his children will starve to death.” Yuutarou chuckled nervously, not sure if he was kidding or not.

 

“I don’t mind,” he said. “I’m not really getting anywhere with this anyway.”

 

“Sorry,” Kunimi muttered, stuffing his notebook into his bag. “We can meet up on Sunday, if you want.”

 

“Your call,” Yuutarou replied. “If I’m not in class, I’m usually here.” Kunimi nodded, standing in one fluid motion. He paused, looking down at Yuutarou like he wanted to say something more. Then he looked away and left the cafe. Yuutarou sighed and looked sightlessly at his notebook for a long moment. Then he put it away and pulled out his magical herbs and remedies textbook and notes and started carefully drawing out a set of leaves.

 

He got about three minutes of peace before Oikawa pounced on him once more. It was with a smile and a hum, flopping down in the spot Kunimi had vacated with a mug cradled in one hand and his apron dangling from the other.

 

“So, Kin-dai-chi,” he cooed, leaning forward with a dangerous light in his eyes. Yuutarou tightened up his mental walls, if only to make Oikawa pout at him.

 

“What do you need, Oikawa-san?” he asked, looking back at his notes.

 

“Oh, _I_ don’t need anything,” Oikawa purred. “You, on the other hand…”

 

“Are you going to share, or are you going to dance around the point again?” Oikawa huffed, flicking his bangs out of his eyes with a toss of his head.

 

“This is the thanks I get, for trying to help my precious kouhai,” he sniffed. “After everything I’ve done, to help you grow and shape you into a wonderful young man, you turn out like this.”

 

“Oikawa-san.”

 

“Okay, so I’ve never seen Kunimi-chan that upset,” Oikawa said. “Or, at least, not in a long time. And not when it wasn’t directly because of Tobio-chan.” Yuutarou blinked at him. Oikawa was a meddlesome person, sure, but it wasn’t like him to drag Yuutarou into a perfect stranger’s business.

 

“What does that have to do with me?” Yuutarou asked. Oikawa chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, considering.

 

“I’m worried about him, and that makes me worry about you,” he said. “Kunimi-chan may not look it, but he’s dangerous when he gets upset. He’s got better control over it now, but when he was a kid…”

 

A flash of memory flitted across Yuutarou’s vision, bright swirling light intense heat and a surge of pride and fear and magic. Then it was gone as soon as it had come, leaving only a lingering tingle beneath his skin. He stared at Oikawa for a long moment without saying a word. When he did speak, Oikawa’s eyes snapped to him like what he had to say was the most crucial thing in Oikawa’s world.

 

“If it becomes a genuine danger for me to be around him, then you know I’m legally obligated to put my safety first, for you,” he said. “But something tells me it won’t get to that point.”

 

“You know, we could rescind your status,” Oikawa said in a flippant tone that told Yuutarou that everything was going to be fine. “I know you’re only using it to stay close to the great Oikawa-san.”

 

“That’s it completely,” Yuutarou said. “It has nothing to do with the insomnia or the anxiety you seem intent on ignoring until it gets so bad you snap entirely.”

 

“Nothing whatsoever,” Oikawa hummed. Yuutarou smiled at him and he smiled back before Kageyama threw an empty cup at his head and yelled that his break was over. Then Oikawa’s smile turned dangerous and he stood, looping his apron around his neck and sauntering up to the counter. Yuutarou watched him go with something light and warm in his chest.

 

-

 

Yuutarou knew the moment Kyoutani came back into town, though not in the way he usually did, with the spotting of storm clouds or the bickering between him and Yahaba. No, this time, it was Tsukishima who gave him away, his scowl deeper and his eyes colder than they had been in months.

 

He had listened to over an hour of grumbles about “mangy mutt” and “better keep his filthy paws to himself” before his already thin patience broke.

 

"Look, if you hate Kyoutani that much, why don't you go do it in person, and not here?" he snapped. Tsukishima glanced at him, then looked away, still muttering under his breath.

 

"He doesn't really hate him," Hinata said. Yuutarou jumped and turned around; he hadn't even heard Hinata come in. "He just likes to pretend he does because he thinks Yamaguchi's going to get hurt."

 

"I don't think that, I know it," Tsukishima snarled. Hinata snorted.

 

"Yamaguchi can take care of himself," he said. "Oh, and he's gonna be here in like ten minutes by the way."

 

Yuutarou ducked down to focus on his book, hiding a smile. If Kyoutani was back in town and Yamaguchi was coming over, it would mean an afternoon of suffering for Tsukishima, and after what he had done to their poor space heater, he deserved it. He could feel Tsukishima glaring at him as if he knew exactly what he was thinking about, but rather than react he simply pulled his blanket tighter around himself and leaned closer to his book.

 

Yamaguchi arrived the way he always did, flouncing right in like he owned the place and dumping his bag on Tsukishima's bed before draping himself across their couch.

 

"Hi, Tadashi!" cried Hinata, hopping up to curl under Yamaguchi's legs.

 

"He's such an idiot," Yamaguchi groaned. Yuutarou marked his place in his book and leaned forward to hear better.

 

"What'd he do this time?" Hinata prompted. Yamaguchi smiled at him then leaned back to stare at the ceiling with a sigh.

 

"I kind of cornered him in the cafe," he said. "He went to see Yahaba before me, that ass."

 

"I mean, Yahaba is his best friend," Yuutarou pointed out. Yamaguchi wrinkled his nose.

 

"Yeah, but I'm _me_ ," he said. Yuutarou shrugged in acquiescence. "So anyway, I went into the cafe, because it was raining there, so I didn't think he was actually trying to hide from me, but turns out he was. As soon as he saw me he tried to hide behind the counter."

 

"Why would he hide from you?" Hinata asked, voice laced with suspicion. Yamaguchi's cheeks went pink and he deliberately avoided eye-contact.

 

"No reason," he said.

 

"Tadashi."

 

"Okay, so I might have emailed him offering to take him on a date when he got back," Yamaguchi said.

 

"That doesn't sound... too bad," Yuutarou said. Yamaguchi grimaced.

 

"I was drunk when I wrote it," he said. Hinata squealed and smacked Yamaguchi's thigh.

 

"Oh my god, you totally propositioned him, didn't you?" he cried. "How bad was it?"

 

"There might have been something about his thighs and my tongue, or maybe his arms and holding me against the wall, or maybe seeing if his bite really was as much as his bark. Maybe." Hinata stared at Yamaguchi for a moment, then burst out laughing. “It’s not funny!” Yamaguchi cried.

 

“It’s a little funny,” Yuutarou said. Yamaguchi craned his neck to glare at him.

 

“The ruination of all my hard work is not funny,” he growled. “It’s gonna take me weeks to get him to talk to me again.”

 

“That’s what you get for getting drunk and emailing people,” Tsukishima sniffed.

 

“You’re just mad because you weren’t invited,” Yamaguchi said. Tsukishima declined to answer. “So anyway, Yahaba was asking about you today, Kindaichi.”

 

“Me?” asked Yuutarou. “What did he want with me?”

 

“I don’t think he actually cares,” Yamaguchi said. “But apparently Oikawa-san has been more annoying than normal, and he wants you to deal with it.”

 

“Contrary to popular belief, I am not Oikawa-san’s backup babysitter,” Yuutarou grumbled.

 

“Yes you are,” Hinata chirped.

 

“You might want to go see what he wants,” Yamaguchi said. “If you don’t he’ll just track you down and you’ll have to deal with the whining too.”

 

“You’re probably right,” Yuutarou groaned as he rolled out of bed. He grabbed his coat and left the room just as Yachi left hers.

 

“Kindaichi-kun!” Yachi squeaked. “I was just looking for you. Here.” She handed Yuutarou an umbrella with a blinding smile. Yuutarou took it with a laugh.

 

“Thank you, Yachi-chan,” he said.

 

“Could you let me into your room real quick?” she asked. “I need to talk to Shouyou about the homework in our urbanization class.” Yuutarou pushed the door open again, stepping aside to let her enter. She smiled again and he set off down the hall.

 

He was halfway to the cafe when the sky opened up above him. He chuckled, opening the umbrella and making a mental note to bring Yachi some coffee as thanks. The thought fled his mind when he walked through the door to find the Daily Grind in chaos. Cups were flying in every direction, seemingly on their own. The windows were shaking and the machines turned on and off, sending coffee and steam and water and syrup splattering across every surface.

 

“Oh good, you’re here,” Yahaba said tonelessly from behind the counter. “Kageyama’s having a panic attack.”

 

“Not my problem,” Yuutarou said. “I don’t deal with Kageyama’s overloads.”

 

“You do now,” Yahaba said. “I don’t have anyone else who can get close enough to him, and Watari is passed out in the back room. You’re certified, which means you’ve got an obligation.”

 

“To Oikawa-san,” Yuutarou insisted. “I can’t work with Kageyama.”

 

“Well, now’s a great chance to learn,” Yahaba said, his tone offering no room for refusal. “I need you to do this, Kindaichi, or sooner or later the whole place is coming down. And I don’t know how to help Watari until Kageyama’s calmed down.” Yuutarou sighed. He really was trapped here: his lingering obligation to Oikawa meant that if Kageyama was causing problems in Oikawa's workplace just before Oikawa's shift then Kageyama was Yuutarou’s responsibility. He took a deep breath and steeled himself against the impending agony, then stepped around the counter.

 

-

 

The night before the winter benchmark, Kindaichi grew flowers for Akira. There were a dozen or so scattered around him while he glared at one sprout in particular, his brow furrowing as it blossomed a vivid red. Akira cleared his throat and Kindaichi jumped, falling onto his ass in his surprise. Akira grinned at him.

 

“What is that one?” he asked.

 

“It’s a dahlia,” he said happily, plucking the blossom off its long stem. He turned to smile up at Akira, surrounded by balls of color. Then he stood, stepping close.

 

“What do they mean?” Akira asked. Kindaichi smiled a bit sheepishly.

 

“They mean lots of different things,” he said. “It took me a few tries to get the color right, but this one means strength, and staying graceful under pressure. Drawing upon inner strength to succeed, things like that. I figured, since you were so worried about tomorrow…” he trailed off with a shrug. Akira looked up at him, warmth blossoming in his chest and tugging him forward, though he didn’t know where it would take him if he went. But Kindaichi was smiling down at him, fingering the stem of the dahlia nervously, and Akira found he didn’t care that he didn’t know, didn’t care that it was dangerous, didn’t care about anything at all but Kindaichi right in front of him.

 

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured. Kindaichi smiled, not the lightning-and-sunburn smile he gave normally, but something softer. It was no less bright, but it had a slow, all-encompassing quality to it that Akira was sure would crush him. Then Kindaichi stepped even closer, and reached out to tuck the dahlia behind Akira’s ear. His fingers lingered, tracing a trail of heat down his neck.

 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “It is.”

 

Akira couldn’t breathe. His heart pounded in his chest and he trembled. Kindaichi was smiling at him still, and his fingertips were still just barely resting on the side of Akira’s neck and he was bent down so that their faces were close, only inches apart, and all Akira would have to do is lean up and-

 

“So my mom bought me that new video game as a sort of a good luck present, I guess? It’s the one with the aliens we saw in that magazine, I think. Do you wanna play?” Akira’s heart shattered, and he smiled.

 

“Sounds good,” he said.

 

And it was. Akira and Kindaichi, sitting on Kindaichi’s bed with their knees pressed together, playing a game, was very good. Kindaichi groaning in frustration or whooping with success was better than good. It was all Akira wanted out of life, to sit here next to Kindaichi and live alongside him. When he went home that night, he slipped the dahlia from behind his ear and pressed it carefully between the pages of a thick book. He slid it onto his shelf, letting his fingers linger against its spine. With a sigh, he turned away.

 

In a little over twelve hours, Akira’s life could be changed forever. And there was nothing he could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS LATE BECAUSE I FORGOT YESTERDAY WAS WEDNESDAY I'M SORRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY


	5. Chapter 5

The difference between Kageyama and Oikawa had always given Yuutarou whiplash. They were both incredibly powerful, but where Oikawa’s psyche had a fluidity to it that allowed him to fit into the shape of his partner’s mind and slip through cracks, Kageyama’s was more like a tank that wedged into the cracks and shattered the walls completely. There was no part of the mind that Kageyama couldn’t access and ultimately control, and it showed.

 

He had learned to control it over the past few years, thanks in part to working with Oikawa and Hinata, but now it was clearly out of his grasp. Yuutarou shuddered as waves of energy knocked past him, a presence he wished he wasn’t so familiar with. Memories of the last time he had let Kageyama into his mind came crashing into him, and he staggered. A deep breath and a strengthening of his walls helped, but on the heels of the psychic waves came the telekinetic, and those knocked Yuutarou to his knees. He groaned and staggered back to his feet.

 

He could see Kageyama now, huddled against one wall, surrounded by a swirling cloud of light and dust. Yuutarou took a slow step forward, then another.

 

“Kageyama,” he said. As he drew nearer to Kageyama, the pressure spiked and he collapsed to his knees again. He shuffled forward until he could almost touch him. “Kageyama, you need to look at me.” Kageyama’s eyes flickered up and back down, and the pressure increased more.

 

“Get out,” he gasped. Yuutarou shook his head.

 

“I’m not going anywhere until you’re okay,” he insisted. Kageyama curled tighter, hands fisting in his hair. The walls groaned and the floor began to buckle, dust falling from the ceiling to join the vortex around Kageyama. Yuutarou’s body screamed with the pressure on him, his bones grinding together and his shoulders bowing.

 

“Get out!” he screamed. “Get out, before I-”

 

“Kageyama.” Yuutarou looked up at the speaker, standing tall and easy as though none of Kageyama’s power affected him. He crouched in front of Yuutarou, glancing at him with those steel eyes, then reached out for Kageyama. “Look.”

 

Fire sprouted from Kunimi’s fingertips, a soft orange glow that clung to his skin like a living glove. Kageyama peeled his eyes open and suddenly the pressure eased somewhat. Kageyama glanced from the fire to Kunimi and back again, then slowly, so slowly, he raised a hand.

 

The fire leapt from Kunimi’s fingertips and hovered for a moment in mid air. Then it began to flit around the room, everywhere Kageyama’s eyes landed. It split and spread until it was a dancing ring of heat and light hovering above their heads. The ring closed, coalescing into a ball that lowered between the three of them. Kunimi reached out to touch it and it faded away. The pressure faded away entirely and Yuutarou was left gaping at the sight in front of him. Kunimi had pulled Kageyama into his arms and was breathing deeply, murmuring low in his ear. Slowly, the light and the dust settled to normal, and things stopped flying around the store. Yuutarou took a deep breath of his own.

 

He felt suddenly out of place, like he was eavesdropping on something intimate, something not meant for his eyes. He stood slowly, careful not to disturb them, and eased out of the kitchen. Yahaba and Kyoutani were both standing behind the counter, and they eyed him warily when he emerged.

 

“Is he okay?” Yahaba asked. Yuutarou shrugged.

 

“Kunimi is with him,” he said. “I didn’t realize he was Kageyama’s…” He trailed off with a wordless gesture. There was no name for what they did, only vulgar colloquialisms and long, political titles.

 

“He is,” Yahaba said. He sighed and started picking up the cups and lids scattered around the counter. “I’m going to need you to stick around and file a report, Kindaichi-kun.”

 

“Yeah, no problem,” Yuutarou said. He bent to scoop a piece of the espresso machine off the floor, handing it to Kyoutani. “Should- should I call Oikawa-san?” Kyoutani stiffened, but Yahaba sighed again.

 

“That would probably be best,” he murmured. Yuutarou nodded and pulled out his phone.

 

Oikawa picked up on the third ring with, “Kindaichi, what’s wrong?”

 

“Kageyama had a panic attack,” Yuutarou explained.

 

“Where are you?” Oikawa demanded. Yuutarou could hear him shuffling papers and unzipping his bag.

 

“At the cafe,” he said. “Kunimi is with him.”

 

“Good,” Oikawa breathed. “I’ll be there in five minutes.” The line went dead. Yuutarou lowered his phone, staring at it for a moment. Then he turned to face the counter.

 

“Yamaguchi said that you were looking for me, Yahaba-san?” he said. Kyoutani made a soft sound that might have been a stifled yelp, but Yuutarou ignored him.

 

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about Oikawa-san,” Yahaba said. “And about Ushijima-san.”

 

“You know that I’m bound by confidentiality clauses, right?” Yuutarou sighed. Yahaba pouted at him.

 

“It’s not anything _bad_ ,” he huffed. “Shinji and I were just wondering if Ushijima-san was, you know, off limits.”

 

“Off… Yahaba-san, what are you talking about?” Yahaba gave him a disgruntled look.

 

“Like, you know,” he said, making sweeping gestures with his hands that cleared absolutely nothing up. “ _Off limits._ ”

 

“He wants to know if he can have sex with him,” Kyoutani said. Yuutarou jumped, feeling his face heat.

 

“God, why are you asking me?” he cried. “I don’t want to be involved in that decision!”

 

“You don’t have to be,” Yahaba sniffed. “I just wanted to know if Oikawa-san would be upset or not.”

 

“Ask him yourself,” Yuutarou muttered. The door to the kitchen opened and Yuutarou turned to see Kunimi wandering out, his expression the kind of serene that only comes with exhaustion after a long battle.

 

“Is he okay?” Yahaba asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Kunimi glanced up at him, considering, then shrugged.

 

“He’s tired,” he said. “He’ll need to go home soon, but first he needs space.”

 

“I called Oikawa-san, and he should be here any minute,” Yuutarou offered. Kunimi glanced at him, then nodded. He wandered over to the door and pushed his way outside.

 

“Kindaichi, can you make sure he doesn’t leave?” Yahaba asked. “I need him to fill out a report too.” Yuutarou nodded and stepped gingerly through the sea of debris surrounding the counter and out the door.

 

Kunimi was standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall of the cafe and staring up at the falling snow. Yuutarou pulled his coat tighter around him and wandered over.

 

“Must be nice, huh? Not feeling the cold, that is.” Kunimi glanced up at him, then away.

 

“Why were you back there?” he asked. “He could have killed you.” Yuutarou grimaced.

 

“I’m Oikawa’s,” he said. “Technically, I was legally obligated.”

 

“Technically,” Kunimi repeated. “Unless it would have put your life in genuine danger. Which it did. So. Why were you there?”

 

“Because I had to help,” Yuutarou said. “Because he’s Oikawa’s boyfriend, because he’s kind of my friend, because I have a death wish. Take your pick.”

 

“You shouldn’t have done it,” Kunimi murmured. “You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.”

 

“Hey, the whole shop was in danger, I couldn’t have just-”

 

“No,” Kunimi interrupted. “I mean by being around him in general. By being around Oikawa, or around me. It’s dangerous.” Yuutarou stared at Kunimi for a moment, but he didn’t return his gaze. Before Yuutarou could ask what he meant, Oikawa came sprinting up to them, doubling over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

 

“Where-” he panted.

 

“In the kitchen, next to the walk in,” Kunimi said. Oikawa nodded and pushed through the door. The snow started falling harder.

 

“Kunimi-kun, I-” Yuutarou started, but Kunimi’s sigh cut him off.

 

“Forget I said anything. It’s not relevant anymore.” He glanced up at Yuutarou, something unreadable hovering just beneath the steel in his eyes. “I’ll see you on Thursday, okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi pushed off the wall and started off down the street. “See you Thursday.”

 

It wasn’t until he went back inside to see Yahaba with a stack of paperwork in front of him that he remembered that Kunimi was supposed to stay. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for the impending shouting and stepped forward.

 

-

 

Yuutarou sat in his magical plants and remedies class, unable to mind a single word the professor was saying. It didn’t really matter anyway, not when he already knew all the species they would be covering in the first half of the semester, knew their uses, both to heal and to harm. All he could think about was the utter lack of emotion on Kunimi’s face when he’d told him to stay away, and how very much he had wanted to hug him in that moment.

 

There was something familiar about Kunimi. Every time Yuutarou looked at him, he expected to see something more than a near-stranger. Every time they stood next to each other, Yuutarou found himself wanting to reach out to him, to hold him or stroke his hair or brush their hands together. He closed his eyes and all he could see was Kunimi looking back at him, looking like he was about to say something that would change both their lives forever, something that would feel like coming home. He could almost see him, standing in the sunlight on a cold day, smiling up at Yuutarou with a flower in his hair.

 

Yuutarou sighed and opened his eyes, trying to make himself focus on the professor’s explanation of mushrooms grown on a full moon versus those grown on a new moon, but the words were blurring together. There was a memory there, just out of his reach. Yuutarou’s vision blurred and pain spiked through his skull. Someone was talking to him, a voice more familiar and more dear to him than any other, but he couldn’t make out the words. There was a smile, there was the intense warmth of someone’s skin, there was laughter in his bedroom. There was a burning field and fear and heat and the kind of terror that disregards the self, that only appears when someone precious is in danger. And then there was nothing.

 

-

 

Voices. Familiar voices, in soft tones.

 

Light, filtering through eyelids.

 

A bed, soft to the touch and swaddled in warm blankets.

 

Voices. Tsukishima’s voice. Hinata’s voice.

 

Light, stabbing through Yuutarou’s eyelids.

 

Yuutarou groaned, scrunching his eyes tighter against the light. The voices came to an abrupt stop and he could feel attention focused on him. He opened his eyes, only to shut them again.

 

“Wha’s going on?” he murmured, his tongue feeling like a lead weight in a sea of sand. There was a pause.

 

“You passed out in class,” Tsukishima said at last. “Some sort of fit or attack or something. You’re in the student wellness center.”

 

Yuutarou opened his eyes again, slowly this time, and looked at Tsukishima. His jaw was clenched and he wouldn’t make eye contact.

 

“What happened?” he asked. Tsukishima shook his head and sighed.

 

“The doctor said that it’s because of psychic blocks set up in your mind,” he said. “You were trying to access something that’s been blocked off, or something, and it didn’t end well.”

 

“Psychic- Tsukishima, what are you talking about?” Tsukishima shook his head.

 

“We called Oikawa-san, and he’ll be here as soon as his shift is over,” Hinata said. “Maybe he can explain it.”

 

“Yeah,” Yuutarou murmured. “Maybe.”

 

“Well, regardless of the explanation, you’re grounded for the next twenty-four hours,” Tsukishima said.

 

“Hilarious,” Yuutarou muttered. He took hold of the blanket and started pulling it away, frowning at how his limbs seemed slow and wooden.

 

“I’m serious,” Tsukishima said. “Doctor’s orders. He’s already emailed your professors, so when he gives you the all clear, you’re coming back to the room and laying down and that’s it.”

 

“Oh, and you’re going to keep me there?” Yuutarou muttered. Tsukishima’s eyes turned sharp.

 

“I’m not,” he said. “But I know someone who will.”

 

The timing was so perfect that part of Yuutarou wondered if they had planned it to be as dramatic as possible. Right as Tsukishima finished speaking, the door slammed open and Oikawa came stomping in, his eyes a storm.

 

“Kindaichi Yuutarou,” he snarled, standing at the foot of Yuutarou’s bed and glaring down at him. “You had better have a damn good explanation for this.”

 

“I’m pretty sure we were all counting on you to explain it, Oikawa-san,” Hinata chirped. Yuutarou took hold of the offering and ran with it.

 

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “The doctor said there was-”

 

“A psychic block, I know,” Oikawa interrupted. “I meant that you had better have an explanation for your insistence on putting yourself in danger this week.” He leaned forward, eyes glinting and voice going soft and quiet and dangerous. “You have an obligation to me, Kindaichi. I expect you to fill it.”

 

Yuutarou swallowed hard, looking to his right for help. But Tsukishima simply settled into his chair, watching the proceedings with a smile on his face. Yuutarou was on his own.

 

-

 

There was a table set in front of Akira, lined with materials. There were herbs and inks and a vial of what he was pretty sure was blood. There was flint and kindling and steel. There were stones and crystals and feathers and everything needed to cast any sort of fire spell. Akira fingered one of the matchsticks, frowning to himself. He stepped away from the table empty-handed.

 

“Kunimi-kun?” asked the teacher, looking at him with vague concern in her eyes. “Are you ready?” Akira nodded. He stepped up to the line marked in the field and took a breath.

 

On the other end of a long stretch of grass sat a single target. Akira was to touch it with some form of fire, enough to leave at least a singe mark. He narrowed his eyes at it, and a string of light and heat appeared halfway down the field. It shot into the target, slightly off-center. He blinked and the fire faded. He looked up at the teacher, his face carefully blank. She frowned at him.

 

“Hamada-san, would you please come here?” she asked, and Akira’s heart sank. Hamada-san stepped forward, a tall and grim man wearing a seraph badge on his chest. Akira looked up at him, aware that he had no expression. Then he glanced at Kindaichi, standing behind the protective barrier the teacher had cast, and felt his mask slip.

 

Kindaichi looked worried, but he smiled and nodded at Akira. Hamada-san stepped between them and settled a hand on Akira’s shoulder.

 

Magic surged through Akira’s veins, some of it his and some of it Hamada-san’s. It raced to the place deep within him where the box keeping his magic in check was carefully locked. It pried at the lock and the chain. Akira fell to his knees, wrestling with it, throwing himself onto the box, trying desperately to keep it closed. The tugging eased, Hamada-san’s magic sliding away from the box and from Akira. Then Hamada-san frowned and it came back, stronger this time.

 

The lid to the box flew off and Akira erupted into flames. He screamed as his magic was ripped out of him, erupting in waves and waves of power that Akira had never let loose, never even taken the time to fully comprehend. A tempest of fire spread out in all directions around him, crashing against the wards and leaving nothing but ash in its wake. And it kept coming.

 

There was more fire than Akira had ever known existed in him, more fire than he had ever known existed in the world. It was so hot, so bright, and Akira was screaming but he couldn’t hear it over the roar of his own magic destroying everything it touched, just like he had always known it would.

 

Kindaichi would hate him now, he knew it. Or, maybe not hate, but he would definitely be afraid of him. Now that he had seen, really seen the extent of Akira’s power, all that he had only alluded to and refused to speak about, now he would understand.

 

Akira could only destroy.

 

Hamada-san stepped away, or maybe he staggered, and the link between him and Akira broke. But the box was open now, and Akira was too shocked, too overwhelmed to close it again. In a way, it was almost pleasurable. Akira had kept his magic locked in that box for so long, and now it was like stretching his legs after sitting for too long in the same position. But the fire was pressing at the protective dome, too great now to be easily contained. Out of the corner of his eye Akira could see the teacher throw her hands out, trying to strengthen the spell, but Akira’s fire pushed back just as hard.

 

Akira looked around wildly, desperate for anything that could help him control it. All he could see in every direction was blinding light, dancing in golds and whites and reds and oranges. Then through a brief opening in the fire, he caught sight of Kindaichi.

 

He was standing closer to the dome than anyone, all the other students having fallen away in their fear. He had his hands cupped around his mouth, shouting something that Akira couldn’t hear. He caught sight of Akira and yelled louder, his eyes alight with terror, and Akira’s heart froze in his chest.

 

He couldn’t hurt Kindaichi. No matter what else happened, no matter if putting the lid back on that box killed him, Akira would do it. He closed his eyes and took a breath choked with heat and smoke.

 

It hurt. It hurt so much to start pulling magic back to him and stuffing it into the box. A taste of freedom had made it hungry for more, and now Akira’s very soul ached with the effort of denying it. As he pulled back the last of the fire, stuffing the lid on top and struggling with the chains, pain stabbed through his skull and his vision began to swim with black. He was vaguely aware of shouting, of someone screaming his name and someone else yelling Kindaichi’s, but before he could make sense of it it was gone. Akira slipped into silent, utter darkness.

 

He collapsed in a heap in the center of a barren field of ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I have been waiting for y'all to get to read this one :D


	6. Chapter 6

Oikawa’s rage was scary, but it was nothing compared to Oikawa’s fear. Yuutarou knew that the way Oikawa was suddenly everywhere at once, never letting Yuutarou do anything for himself or have a moment’s peace, was because he cared. Oikawa was genuinely afraid for Yuutarou, and they all knew why.

 

“I didn’t put the block there,” Oikawa said, frowning. “I can see it, I can touch it, now that I know it’s there. But I can’t do anything about it.”

 

“Can you tell what it’s supposed to be blocking off?” Yamaguchi asked.

 

“Not yet,” Oikawa muttered. “Kindaichi, what were you thinking about when it happened?”

 

“Mushrooms.” The others all blinked at him.

 

“You were in your remedies class, right?” Hinata asked suddenly. “Maye something in the lecture triggered it!”

 

“I doubt it,” Yuutarou said. “I already knew all the material.”

 

“So you probably weren’t paying attention,” murmured Yamaguchi.

 

“So what were you daydreaming about?” asked Oikawa. Yuutarou frowned.

 

“I don’t remember.” But it wasn’t quite true. Flashes of memory were returning to him once more, fire and someone’s hand small and warm in his own and-

 

“And that’s enough of that,” Oikawa said, and Yuutarou’s mind was suddenly empty. He blinked, shaking his head as Oikawa’s fog cleared it. “Sorry,” Oikawa murmured. “I needed you to get close enough to see what was around it, but not close enough to touch it again.”

 

“’S fine,” Yuutarou said. “Did you find it?”

 

“I think so,” Oikawa said slowly. “But I’m not really sure what to do about it. I’m going to have to talk to my professor before we try anything.”

 

“Well, what is it?” Yuutarou asked. “I have to know if I can avoid it.” Oikawa laughed and shook his head.

 

“That’s not how thought works, Kindaichi,” he said. “Nice try. No, if I tell you, then you’ll spend all your time trying to avoid that thought and suddenly it’ll be all you can think about. It’s better if we just leave it be for a bit. Now, I have a study group to go to, so you’ve got three choices. Either I knock you out and you get a nice, long night’s sleep, or you either come with me to study group or it comes here. Your pick.”

 

“Study group does not come here,” Tsukishima droned from his desk. Oikawa grinned.

 

“Two choices, then. But you’re not leaving my supervision.” Yuutarou sighed.

 

“Let me grab my books,” he said. Oikawa cheered, levering himself off of Yuutarou’s legs and hopping toward the door. Yuutarou listened to him chatter excitedly with Hinata and Yamaguchi as he gathered his things. He tried to shake the exhaustion from his limbs and followed Oikawa out the door.

 

-

 

Study group, as it turned out, consisted entirely of Oikawa flirting with a group of fellow grad students in the library, all while thinking he was being secretive about the glances he was sending the student aide working the help desk. Yuutarou rolled his eyes, settling into his corner with his econ notes. Oikawa spared him a sharp glance, but otherwise ignored the derision. Eventually, Oikawa’s focus turned to his own work, and the flirting and laughter died down into the quiet murmurs of students who would rather do anything other than study but had no choice. Yuutarou settled in to ignore them.

 

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but the next thing Yuutarou knew he was being shaken awake by Sugawara, one of Oikawa’s study mates. He smiled brightly at Yuutarou.

 

“Tooru told me you’ve had a rough day,” he said, reaching out to pluck Yuutarou’s pen from where it had gotten caught in his hair. “Anything I can do to help?” Yuutarou glanced at Oikawa, who was humming quietly to himself as he packed up his things.

 

“Is Ushijima-san still here?” Yuutarou asked. Sugawara’s eyes lit up.

 

“I think he went to restock the shelves,” he said. “But I can go get him.”

 

“That’d be great,” Yuutarou said. “I think Oikawa-san could use some help.” Sugawara winked at him and stood, disappearing between the shelves. Yuutarou sighed and started shoving his book into his bag.

 

“Ready to go?” asked Oikawa, just as Yuutarou zipped his bag shut. Yuutarou nodded and stood, stretching slowly.

 

“Why does my whole body feel like barbed wire?” he grumbled. Oikawa laughed.

 

“Side effect of a psychic-induced meltdown,” he said. “You’ll feel better in a day or so.”

 

“If you say so,” Yuutarou muttered. A broad pair of shoulders caught his eye and he reminded himself not to smile.

 

“Excuse me,” said a deep voice, and Oikawa’s entire body went stiff. “Can I help you with anything?”

 

“U-Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa stuttered, whirling around to face him. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I work here,” Ushijima said, gesturing to his student worker id. “Can I help you with anything?”

 

“Oh! No, you’re fine,” Oikawa said. His face went pale. “ _I_ _’m_ fine! I’m fine. You’re fine too. We’re all fine. Kindaichi, are you fine?”

 

“I’m fine,” Yuutarou replied, fighting to keep the smile of his face.

 

“See? We’re all fine here.” Oikawa ended with a bright smile and a twitching eyelid. “Are you fine?”

 

“I am,” Ushijima said. “Are you certain you do not need any assistance?”

 

“Yep!” Oikawa shouted. “We’re fine!”

 

“So you’ve said.” Oikawa grinned up at him, the smile cracking around the edges.

 

“So we should go!” he said, still too loudly. “Bye, Ushiwaka-chan!” He reached out blindly to grab Yuutarou’s arm too tight and turned, still smiling, to march them stiffly out of the library. They got about thirty steps outside before Oikawa dropped Yuutarou’s elbow and hid his face in his hands.

 

“You okay?” Yuutarou asked. Oikawa whined and shook his head, not taking his hands away.

 

“He’s so perfect,” he sobbed into his palms. “He’s so hot, and his voice is just _ugh,_ and he’s always so nice and I just want to punch his stupid face.”

 

“I’m sure,” Yuutarou muttered.

 

“And Tobio’s always telling me that I should just _go for it_ , but like, how do I even know if he’d be okay with it?” Oikawa continued as though Yuutarou hadn’t spoken. He pulled his hands away at last, looking up at the sky with eyes too wide. “Like, say the planets all align and some deity decides to take pity on me and all my wishes come true, say all of that happens and he actually likes men. Even if he did, there’s no way in hell he’d like me, out of all the guys he knows. And even if, in some parallel universe, he actually did like me, he wouldn’t be okay with being with me. Not while I’m with Tobio. ‘Cause like, even if Tobio and I have talked and we’re okay and everything’s fine, other people don’t want the things we want. And god, what if he doesn’t like _Tobio_? What if he and Tobio hate each other? ‘Cause I’d have to side with Tobio, he’s the one I’m actually dating and Ushiwaka’s just the hot guy at the library, but that doesn’t mean I want to make that choice! And what if-”

 

“Are you going to be wrapping this up any time soon?” Yuutarou asked. Oikawa glared at him. “Look, you’ve already got all the advice and reassurance you’re gonna get out of me. You’ve talked to Kageyama, so now you have to talk to Ushijima-san. If you don’t communicate, then you don’t get to complain when people can’t read your mind. Not everyone’s a psychic like you.” Oikawa groaned and slumped against the side of the building.

 

“I hate it when you’re right,” he muttered. “What happened to you being the kouhai and me being the one with all the answers?”

 

“You’ve never had all the answers,” Yuutarou said. “That’s why I became your kouhai.” Oikawa smiled at him, a genuine smile just barely hidden under the shiny veneer. Yuutarou returned it with a tired one of his own.

 

“If I take you back to your dorm, can I trust you to go to sleep?” he asked.

 

“Honestly? Probably not.”

 

“Fine,” Oikawa sighed. “Then we need to drop by so you can get a change of clothes. You’re staying with me and Iwa-chan tonight.”

 

“Oh joy,” Yuutarou murmured. Oikawa tossed a glare in his direction then took off down the path toward the dorms. Yuutarou followed without a word.

 

By the time they reached Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s flat after a visit to his dorm and a ten-minute train ride, Yuutarou was almost asleep where he stood. Oikawa had to guide him inside with an arm around his shoulder. Yuutarou sat on the couch and listened to Oikawa explain the situation to Iwaizumi. He was asleep before he could finish.

 

-

 

Wednesdays meant that Oikawa had no classes and an eight-hour-long shift at the cafe. Yuutarou awoke to the sound of him humming loudly as he made breakfast and the obnoxious slant of light hitting his face from the window across from him. He groaned and rolled to his feet, shuffling into the kitchen to investigate.

 

“Oh good, you’re up,” Oikawa chirped as he slid the last of a stack of scrumptious looking pancakes into place. “Eat up. We have to leave for the cafe in less than an hour.” Yuutarou took the plate he offered with a confused blink.

 

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing a fork.

 

“Kei-chan brought by the notes for your economics class, in case you want to look over those today,” Oikawa said while Yuutarou ate. “You’ll be clear to leave my supervision at two this afternoon, so you might want to bring a book or something with you.”

 

“Geez, you’re worse than my mom,” Yuutarou muttered. Oikawa grinned.

 

“Your mom is great,” he said. “It’s a compliment to be compared to her.”

 

“If you say so,” Yuutarou said. Oikawa narrowed his eyes.

 

“Eat your pancakes,” he said. “Forty-five minutes.” Then with a toss of his hair he swept out of the kitchen, presumably to prepare himself for the day to come. Yuutarou could hear running water and loud singing and something that sounded like a small chainsaw. He decided he really didn’t want to know.

 

Kageyama was already behind the counter when they arrived, because of course he was. Yuutarou was beginning to wonder if he actually ever left, no matter that he was enrolled in classes and that he lived in the dorms. Yuutarou had never actually seen him outside of the cafe.

 

Neither of them mentioned what had happened the last time they had seen each other. Yuutarou felt too awkward to bring it up, and Kageyama was too awkward to speak in general. But when Yuutarou accepted his drink, it was piping hot and smelled of cinnamon, something he knew he had not ordered or paid for. He accepted it with a weak smile and retreated to his seat in the corner.

 

It was a long, boring day.

 

A steady stream of customers in and out of the cafe was the only thing to break up the monotony. Yuutarou watched them come and go, occasionally sketching the ones with more interesting faces, but mostly he kept his eyes on Oikawa.

 

Their meeting with Ushijima the night before had clearly shaken him, and it was clear by the way he hovered hesitantly over Kageyama all day. It was like he was trying to make up for it, trying to apologize for the fact that he was attracted to another man, for all that Yuutarou knew they had talked about it and that Kageyama was fine. He hovered and hovered and all at once Kageyama had enough.

 

“If you keep hovering like that I will dump the entire pot over your head,” he snapped.

 

“I’m not hovering,” Oikawa huffed. “I’m just making sure you do your job right. It’s my duty as your manager.

 

“Well, stop it,” Kageyama murmured, his expression softening all at once. “We’re fine.”

 

Yuutarou watched, curious. It wasn’t often that Kageyama acknowledged their relationship in public, but now he trailed his fingers over Oikawa’s cheekbones, a tender look in his eyes. Oikawa hummed and leaned into the contact, his face going softer and softer. Kageyama smiled at him, an honest to god smile, and Yuutarou felt his cheeks heat up.

 

“It’s fine,” Kageyama murmured. “We’re fine. I love you.”

 

Yuutarou heard Oikawa return the sentiment in a whisper, but he couldn’t focus on it. It was too intimate, too private for his ears. He buried his nose in his sketchbook and tried to pretend there was nothing going on around him, nothing at all happening behind the counter. It worked. Mostly.

 

-

 

As soon as he had been cleared by the school nurse and the on-site medic, they took Akira to a small room with a desk and two little plastic chairs in front of it and one big leather chair behind. They sat him down in one of the plastic chairs and told him to wait, then left him alone.

 

Akira knew that he was supposed to feel something. He should have been terrified at least. Scared for himself, scared _of_ himself. But he couldn’t feel anything. He just stared at the blank white wall across from him, numb.

 

It was as though someone had dunked him in icy water and left him there. He could only feel his limbs enough to move them, and his thoughts were too waterlogged to make any sense. Distantly, he knew he was trembling, and that he had been sick at least once since waking up. Even more distantly, he knew why he had been sick, why he had been in the nurse’s office and why he had been brought to this room. He didn’t want to know.

 

The door opened at last, and Akira’s mother and a grim looking man in a suit walked in. Akira thought he might have been at the field for the benchmark, but he wasn’t sure. He took a seat in the big chair and gestured for Akira’s mother to take the other. He set a folder on the table and spent an obnoxious amount of time thumbing through it. When he was finished, he closed it and laced his fingers together, setting them on top of the folder and regarding Akira and his mother seriously.

 

“Let me be frank,” he said in a voice that sounded like what Akira figured rice paper would sound like, if rice paper had a voice. “In all the years of this institution, we have never seen an event such as the one this morning. Kunimi-kun’s power is remarkable, but what is much more remarkable is the way he has managed to keep it a secret. His teachers have all ranked him as a class three fire mage, perfectly ordinary. However, the amount of magical talent and the sheer volume of his spell today would rank him much higher, a class seven at very least.”

 

“Is there a point to this lecture?” Akira’s mother asked. The man leaned back slightly, as though surprised by her response.

 

“Kunimi-san, have you heard what I said? Your son is easily the most powerful mage of his age that I have ever seen. His raw talent is simply off the charts.”

 

“I am aware that my son is extraordinary,” she said. “What I want to know is why you have called me here.”

 

“I’m sure you saw when you came in, the state in which he left the field,” he said, his voice gaining some life to it. “He reduced it to cinders.”

 

“Yes, and that’s why there were protective wards in place,” she replied. “You knew that when you introduced seraphs into a class of young, untrained magi that something like this could happen.”

 

“In most cases, it will turn a level three mage into a level four, at most,” the man replied. “There are no precedents for what your son managed today.”

 

“That is because you took away his control.” Now she was getting angry, Akira could hear it in her voice. Her thin hold on her rage was trembling, and the room was growing colder by the moment. “You invaded my son’s person and took away the handle he had on his magic. And now you’re telling me you’re surprised that he lost control?”

 

“Well, no, we-”

 

“Are you telling me you were unprepared for the consequences of your actions?” she snarled.

 

“Kunimi-san, your son is a danger to the other students,” he said, clearly scrambling to regain control of the conversation.

 

“He wasn’t a danger, until you people came in and made him one,” she said.

 

“He was always a danger,” he said. “Holding that much power in check, keeping it locked up like he clearly has been for years, it is unsafe both for him and for those around him. The board has procedures in place for situations such as this.”

 

“I thought you said there had never been a situation like this,” growled Akira’s mother. He ignored her.

 

“Kunimi-kun clearly needs more intensive training than this facility will be able to provide,” he said. “Effective today, he will be removed from classes here, and enrolled at the Aoba Jousai Academy of Magic, in Sendai. There, he will be able to get the guidance and attention he needs.”

 

“But Sendai is two hours away,” she said. “He has a life here, he has friends. You can’t ask us to just-”

 

“I’m afraid this is beyond the matter of your son’s life and friends, Kunimi-san,” he said. “We were very lucky today that Kunimi-kun’s teacher is adept at barrier spells. However, we must acknowledge that people were in danger today. It is not enough to simply lock one’s power away. He must learn to control it, for his safety and for the safety of those around him.

 

“This is not a recommendation, Kunimi-san. The decision made by the board is final. Kunimi-kun will begin classes at Aoba Josai on Monday. You have the remainder of the week and the duration of the weekend to have him settled in at the dorms there. I will see to it that the secretary outside has all the paperwork you will be needing.” With that, he picked up his folder and left the room. Akira stared at the wall behind the desk while his mother fumed.

 

“We’ll fight this,” she said suddenly. “You have rights. They can’t just conscript you into a-”

 

“It’s fine, Mother,” he murmured. She cut off, looking at him. He didn’t look at her. “He’s right. I’m dangerous.”

 

“No, Akira, you’re not-”

 

“Kindaichi was there today,” Akira said, looking at her at last. “He’s right, I don’t know how to control my magic. I only know how to lock it away. Kindaichi was standing right outside the barrier. He could’ve gotten burned.”

 

“Akira, it’s not your fault,” she said. He nodded.

 

“I know,” he replied. “But next time, it will be.” She looked at him, eyes flicking around his face like she was trying to figure out what he was thinking. He stared back evenly.

 

“All right,” she said at last. “If this is what you want, then we’ll do it.”

 

“I don’t want it,” Akira said. “But it’s the right thing to do.” She sighed and reached out to run an icy hand through his hair.

 

“When did you get so grown up?” she murmured. He didn’t answer her.

 

As they walked out of the school with the stack of paperwork the secretary gave them, Akira glanced over at the field. He didn’t know why he did it. The last thing he wanted to see was the charred evidence of what he’d done. He stopped dead in his tracks.

 

The field wasn’t burnt, wasn’t charred at all. It was lush and vibrant, as full of grass as it would be in the peak of springtime. And dotting its entire surface, so thick that it was difficult to see the grass beneath them, were dahlias.

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this is what I hate about the buffer I set up. Right now I'm writing something that's gonna make this chapter hurt even worse, but I can't tell any of you about it.
> 
> >:3c


	7. Chapter 7

When two o’ clock rolled around and Yuutarou had finished his twenty-four hour waiting period, Oikawa grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the break room. He held Yuutarou at arm’s length, scrutinizing him as much with his eyes as he did with his mind. Yuutarou simply returned the gaze, letting Oikawa probe wherever he wanted. After a solid ten minutes, Oikawa nodded.

 

“I suppose I have no way to keep you here longer,” he sighed. Yuutarou rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m fine,” he said. “Really.”

 

“Just, promise me you’ll stay out of trouble for the rest of the week?” Oikawa said. Yuutarou wanted to make a sharp reply, but he could see how worried Oikawa was. The sarcasm died on his tongue.

 

“I’ll try,” he said. Oikawa sighed, letting his hands drop from Yuutarou’s shoulders.

 

“I guess that’s the best I’m getting, huh?” he said. “All right. You’re free. Off you go.” Yuutarou offered him a brief smile, hustling out of the break room and over to where he had left his bag. He left the cafe without a moment’s pause.

 

When he got back to the dorm, Tsukishima had a dangerously gleeful smile on his face. Yuutarou hesitated just inside the door, watching Tsukishima trace lazy patterns through the frost covering the windows.

 

“Do I want to know why you’re so happy?” he asked. He dropped his bag on the bed and flopped onto the couch next to Hinata.

 

“Why can’t I be happy?” Tsukishima huffed. Yuutarou narrowed his eyes. “Okay, fine, so maybe Yamaguchi and Kyoutani got into a fight and maybe Yamaguchi isn’t talking to Kyoutani anymore, and maybe I’m happy about that. But whatever.”

 

“You’re such an ass,” Yuutarou laughed. “What’d they fight about?”

 

“I thought you hated gossiping,” Tsukishima muttered, looking at Yuutarou with narrowed eyes.

 

“It’s not gossiping,’ Yuutarou said. “It’s self-defense. You’re too happy and that’s dangerous. I’d rather avoid anything that could encourage that further.” Tsukishima scowled.

 

“I’ll tell you!” Hinata said. Yuutarou smiled at him and he took a deep breath. “So it started over Yamaguchi’s email,” he said. “Yamaguchi went to the cafe to apologize and Kyoutani tried to act like he wasn’t there so Yamaguchi got pissed and called him on it and then it started hailing and Kyoutani tried to tell him it didn’t matter and that he didn’t care what Yamaguchi said, like ever, so then Yamaguchi did that thing where he gets all quiet and you know you’ve fucked up and then he just walked away and when he got home he said that he wasn’t ever gonna talk to Kyoutani again, and that’s why Kei’s so happy.” He said all of it in one breath and smiled proudly up at Yuutarou, who snorted.

 

“You do know he’s going to start talking to him again soon, right?” he asked Tsukishima’s back. “As soon as he gets bored, or decides he’s given Kyoutani the cold shoulder for long enough, he’s going to turn around and start tormenting Kyoutani, and then eventually he’ll get over it and start mooning over him like before.”

 

“I know,” Tsukishima snapped. “Damn it, why can’t you just let me enjoy this?”

 

“Because I take great pleasure in your pain,” Yuutarou droned. Hinata giggled.

 

“I thought Tsukki and _I_ were the old married couple,” he said. Yuutarou shook his head.

 

“You two are the disgusting newlywed couple,” he said. “Tsukishima and I are the bitter old women who had a fight forty years ago about a tapioca pudding recipe and haven’t forgiven each other since.”

 

“Why does that metaphor keep getting more specific?” Tsukishima muttered.

 

“Dunno. Do you have the econ notes I missed?” Tsukishima grabbed a stack of papers off his desk and handed them to Yuutarou. Hinata gasped and shuffled closer.

 

“Man, my notes never look this good,” he whined.

 

“That’s because you write like a five-year-old,” Yuutarou said absently as he dug out his own notebook and pens. He propped his feet up in Hinata’s lap and started copying down the vocabulary. The world fell quiet around him, and for the first time that week he felt like he could breathe normally.

 

-

 

Kunimi was waiting when he stepped into the cafe the next day. Yuutarou wasn’t sure why, but he felt a surge of relief at the sight of him sitting on the couch, frowning at his notebook. With a half-muffled sigh, Yuutarou sat in his favorite chair and pulled out his own notes.

 

“Hey, Kunimi,” he said softly.

 

“You weren’t in class yesterday,” Kunimi said in lieu of an actual greeting. Yuutarou managed not to flinch.

 

“Yeah, I was kind of stuck with Oikawa all day,” he said. Kunimi looked up at him, scrutinizing him with those steel eyes. There was something else beyond the steel, some flicker of emotion that Yuutarou couldn’t place before it was gone.

 

“Was it because of Kageyama?” Kunimi asked. Yuutarou blinked in surprise.

 

“No,” he said. “Or at least, I don’t think so. It probably had more to do with Oikawa-san, really, and since the doctor put me on 24-hour rest, Oikawa-san insisted I do it under his supervision. He gets overprotective sometimes.”

 

“That doesn’t sound overprotective,” Kunimi said. “It sounds like a reasonable amount of concern. From what I heard, you fell out of your chair and started screaming and convulsing in the middle of a lecture hall.”

 

“There were no convulsions,” Yuutarou said. “And I’m pretty sure there were no screams. No one mentioned any screams.” Kunimi shrugged.

 

“Whatever,” he said. “I have the notes from yesterday if you want.” He held out his notebook and Yuutarou took it with a mumbled thanks. He dug out his phone to take pictures of the pages, pushing down the sensation that there was something familiar about the layout, or perhaps the handwriting. He handed the notebook back to Kunimi.

 

“So I’ve been thinking about our project all week, and I have no idea what to do,” he said. “I can’t think of a single way to combine our affinities.”

 

“I was thinking something environmental,” Kunimi said softly. “Earth magi tend to be better at putting out wildfires than any other affinity. Or maybe some sort of subterranean heating source? A way to reduce fossil fuels or something like that?” Yuutarou blinked.

 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “The best I came up with was some sort of construction use.” Kunimi smiled.

 

“Construction would be a good idea,” he said. “Softening the ground before digging for foundations.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Yuutarou said, rubbing at the back of his head. “The problem is, I don’t know much about actual earth-moving magic. Like, I know enough to get by, but my affinity is more plant-based, you know? I make things grow.”

 

“Agriculture, then,” Kunimi said. “Farmers burn their fields sometimes to help revitalize the soil. And volcanic ash is the most fertile in the world.”

 

“How do you know so much?” Yuutarou groaned. “You’re brilliant.” Kunimi looked away, and it must have been Yuutarou’s imagination, but he would have sworn he saw Kunimi blush. He shook his head, scrambling for something to say. “I think the agriculture would be a good idea,” he said. “We could find a system for like restoring endangered ecosystems or something like that.” Kunimi looked up again, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

 

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll need to research burning methods and soil nutrients, as well as what environments this would work best in and what it wouldn’t. And if we’re going beyond agriculture, we’ll need to do some research in environment protection, as well as health sciences to see what the smoke and the effect of the mingling magics will do to the surrounding populations, and what it’ll do to the crops themselves.”

 

Yuutarou listened to Kunimi talk in a slight daze. He nodded and jotted down a list of the things he mentioned, but mostly he was focusing on how grateful he was to have a good partner for this project, and how easy it was to talk to Kunimi. He left the cafe that evening with a list in his pocket and a determined set to his jaw.

 

-

 

Akira left the house he had grown up in the next day. It had taken him most of the night to pack and to organize his belongings into two piles: what would be coming with him to the dorms and what would be going with his mother when she found somewhere to live closer to the school. Now his room was stripped bare, but he could still see the evidence that he had been there.

 

There were little pencil marks on the door frame, tracking his growth. In the corner of the carpet, over by the closet, there was a splash of paint from an art project that had gotten out of hand. On the ceiling, there were the impressions of the glow-in-the-dark stars that he and Kindaichi had put up the summer after they’d met.

 

Akira wondered what Kindaichi would think. He had turned his phone off that afternoon, ignoring all of Kindaichi’s calls and texts, and they had turned off all the lights and pretended not to be home when Kindaichi came looking for him. His mother had scolded him for it, asking why on earth he wouldn’t want his own best friend there, to at least say goodbye. Akira had blinked tears out of his eyes and she had let the issue drop.

 

Now, after a bare three hours of restless sleep, he was helping his mother pack everything he would be bringing with him into the back of their rusty little car. He didn’t look back at the house as they drove away. He didn’t look back as they passed Kindaichi’s street. He didn’t look back as they passed the park with the tree. He stared straight ahead and pretended there were no tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

“Akira, sweetheart, it’s not too late,” his mother said as they waited at a stoplight on the edge of town. “Just say the word and I can turn around.”

 

“Keep driving,” he murmured. She nodded, and when the light turned they left Akira’s hometown behind.

 

Aoba Jousai Magical Academy was an old, imposing complex proportionate to its old, imposing name. Akira watched the campus pass by the window as they drove around to the main office building, wondering what it would look like when it was his home, when it was no longer strange and new. There were kids ranging from teenagers to a couple years younger than Akira, all playing or laughing or lounging around on the grass. One pair of girls in particular were casting light spells, shaping the swirling colors into animals and faces, laughing the whole time. For a moment, Akira thought that Kindaichi would be fascinated by them. He stuffed the thought as far down as it would go.

 

Kindaichi had no place in this new life. Not if Akira was going to keep him safe. They turned a corner and the light magi were hidden from view. Akira’s mother put the car in park and they both sat still, waiting for the other to break the silence.

 

If Akira opened the door, if he stepped out of the car, his life would change forever. He would probably never see his home again, and he would never be plain, boring Akira again. He would be something new, something dangerous, something that normal people whispered about, had dreams of being and nightmares of meeting.

 

He opened the door.

 

A pretty woman in an immaculate suit was talking to the secretary when they walked in. She looked up at them and her face contorted through several emotions in the span of roughly half a second before she smoothed it into a professional smile.

 

“You must be the Kunimis,” she said with a voice like an iron cage. “Welcome. I am the headmistress, Yachi Madoka. If you will follow me.” She turned smartly on her heel and strode down a hallway. Akira exchanged a glance with his mother, then they both followed. She led them to a stately office, gesturing for them to have a seat as she closed the door. She settled in across from them and regarded Akira seriously.

 

“Thank you, for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice, Yachi-san,” said Akira’s mother, the picture of cool politeness. The headmistress shook her head.

 

“We are always looking for new potential,” she said. “However, when I heard of the events at your winter benchmark exam, I was most impressed. It is not often that a class-seven mage can masquerade as a class-three for so many years, least of all one with a fire affinity. To do so, especially at such a young age, is most impressive, and speaks volumes of the lengths to which you were willing to go for control.

 

“However, it also speaks volumes of your recklessness and your lack of formal training. I hope you understand, Kunimi-kun, that what you did was very dangerous, both to you and to those around you. It will not be tolerated here.” She stared at him, clearly expecting some sort of response.

 

“I understand,” he said, and to his pleasant surprise, his voice didn’t shake. “I have no intentions of suppressing my magic anymore.”

 

“Good,” she said. With brisk, efficient movements, she opened a drawer and pulled out a folder embossed with the school’s crest. “Since you are coming to us on such short notice, we had to put you into whatever classes we could find room in. Luckily, there was a boy in your year who did not previously have a roommate, so housing will not be a problem. When the term ends in two weeks’ time, you will meet with an adviser who will place you in the program best suited to your affinity, as well as your strengths and weaknesses. For now, Alisa will show you around. Please don’t hesitate to ask her if you have any questions.” She dismissed them with another professional smile. Akira scooped up his bag and stood, opening the door for his mother. She stepped outside with a sigh so quiet Akira was sure he was the only one who heard it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why this chapter is so short? I checked and it's like 600 words shorter than the goal? It probably has something to do with the way I write in one big document and then split it up, but whatever. The next chapter is longer :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is Kunimi's birthday, and the lovely [Rose](http://nitori-aiichiros.tumblr.com) heavily hinted that I should post a bonus chapter, so here you go!

Yuutarou’s art lab was simultaneously the best and worst choice he had made that semester. It met once a week, starting at eight in the morning and ending at eleven-thirty, and it was miserable. But it was also a block of peace in Yuutarou’s life, a moment to step back from everything else going on around him and just focus on making things. Yuutarou loved making things.

 

Today they were working with chalk pastels, the crumbly, dusty, smeary quality of them making Yuutarou feel light and peaceful. He could almost feel the current of magic running through the little orange stick in his hand, the same current that ran through everything, holding particles together and giving things their mass and their life. As he smudged at the paper with his thumb, he pretended he could feel everything.

 

He wasn’t even sure what he was drawing today. It had started as formless color, the same way it always did when he worked with a more movable medium like this, waiting to see if a shape would form in its midst. If Yuutarou stepped back to look, he knew he would see what that shape was. He stayed where he was, digging out a bright yellow with his clean hand and wiping the other on his shirt to clear it of orange pigment.

 

He was so entranced in the color and the dust that he almost didn’t notice when the class ended and everyone around him started packing up. Yuutarou wiped his hands, putting his pastels away carefully, frowning. He knew, just knew, that when he looked up at the drawing, he would see something he wasn’t ready for. He stalled for as long as he could, then looked.

 

It was a smear of reds and oranges and golds and yellows, a splash of green at the bottom. Yuutarou’s heart picked up as he stared, knowing that by the end there would be a black figure standing in the midst, and that the colors would consolidate into light and heat and magic that he knew, but could not remember. He shook his head to clear it and took the page into a side room to spray with fixative. He would worry about it next week. He washed his hands with a sigh, debating with himself the weight of being polite against the effort it would take to go back to the dorm and change his shirt before heading to the library. He decided against it, figuring that he could just do his best to keep the chalk dust from getting on any of the books and he would be fine.

 

He waved goodbye to his professor and the few classmates who were awake enough to notice and trudged out of the art building.

 

Campus was a field of slush and misery in early February. Yuutarou couldn’t decide if this was better than the frozen isolation of December and January, or if the cold, wet state of his socks outweighed the ability to actually feel the earth slowly awakening beneath his feet. Either way, he was miserable by the time he made it to the library bathroom to rid his shoes of the marshes that had formed in them. When he emerged at last, he made his way to the second floor, where the books on environmental sciences were kept. Ushijima was working the help desk there, and he glanced up long enough to nod at Yuutarou before returning to his work. Yuutarou dumped his bag at a table and wandered into the stacks to start collecting any relevant books.

 

He was three hours and five books in when the words started swimming in front of his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over a face. Clearly he needed a break, and some sort of distraction.

 

Thankfully, right at that moment, he noticed Oikawa standing nearby, peering around the edge of a bookshelf as though he were trying to spy and not get caught. Yuutarou followed his line of vision to see Ushijima behind the help desk, talking softly to Kageyama. He raised an eyebrow and pushed out of his chair, wandering over to Oikawa.

 

“And here I though he just never left the cafe,” he said. Oikawa jumped so violently that he knocked several books off the shelf. Ushijima glanced over and Oikawa ducked behind the shelf, leaving Yuutarou to wave and start picking the books up.

 

“Kindaichi, what are you doing here?” Oikawa hissed. Yuutarou pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

 

“Studying,” he said. “What are _you_ doing here? Surely not spying on Kageyama and Ushijima-san?”

 

“I’m not _spying_ ,” Oikawa spat. “Tobio knows full well that I’m here.”

 

“Okay, so you’re spying on Ushijima-san,” Yuutarou said. Oikawa scowled at him. “Why?”

 

“None of your business,” Oikawa muttered.

 

“That’s fine,” Yuutarou said as he slid the last of the books into place. Oikawa stared up at him.

 

“Wait, what?” he asked, voice trembling slightly.

 

“You’re not going to tell me,” Yuutarou said. “That’s fine.”

 

“You’re being awfully easy with this,” Oikawa said. Yuutarou shrugged.

 

“I don’t have the energy to fight with you,” he replied. “Besides, Kageyama will tell me.” With that, he returned to his seat, leaving Oikawa stuck between fuming behind the bookshelf and following him to yell risking revealing himself. He tossed Oikawa a smile as he sat down, dragging a book toward himself.

 

After a few more minutes, another student came up to ask Ushijima a question, and he led her away. Kageyama turned, eyes scanning the area for Oikawa and landing on Yuutarou instead. Yuutarou grinned and waved him over. As he came, face utterly blank, Oikawa emerged from the stacks in a cloud of rage and nerves.

 

“Well?” Oikawa hissed as soon as he was at the table.

 

“Well what?” Kageyama asked dully. Yuutarou had to swallow down a snort.

 

“Don’t you sass me,” Oikawa threatened.

 

“What’s going on here?” Yuutarou asked, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice. Kageyama considered him for a moment, the ghost of a smile playing in his eyes.

 

“He’s too scared to talk to Ushijima-san on his own,” he said.

 

“Tobio!” screeched Oikawa.

 

“So I take it you’re talking for him?” Yuutarou asked, ignoring Oikawa’s continued squawking.

 

“Well, I’m talking to him,” Kageyama said. Yuutarou’s brow furrowed, but before he could press for an explanation, Oikawa grabbed Kageyama’s arm and started dragging him away.

 

“Ah, Oikawa. I did not know you were here.” Oikawa froze in his tracks, just like he had a few days prior. He turned slowly, smile plastered in place.

 

“I just came by to collect Tobio, Ushiwaka-chan,” he said. Yuutarou glanced at Ushijima, trying to gauge his reaction, but Ushijima’s face was as blank as ever. He nodded in acknowledgment.

 

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said. Oikawa waved, still smiling obnoxiously, and stormed out of the library as fast as he could. Then, to Yuutarou’s surprise, Ushijima sighed heavily. “I don’t believe he likes me very much,” he said softly. Yuutarou cocked his head, trying to formulate an answer, but another voice answered him.

 

“Aw, don’t be like that Wakatoshi-kun.” Yuutarou whipped his head around to see a half-familiar redhead browsing the shelves nearby. “You didn’t see him at study group on Tuesday. Couldn’t keep his damn eyes off you.” Ushijima glanced at the redhead, considering.

 

“He always leaves as soon as he can whenever we’re in the same room,” he pointed out. The redhead - Tendou, if Yuutarou was remembering right- snorted.

 

“If I may?” Yuutarou said softly, drawing the attention of both men. “Oikawa-san is constantly talking about you, Ushijima-san. He’s just nervous.”

 

“Nervous of what?” Ushijima asked.

 

“Well, you aren’t the easiest guy to read, Wakatoshi-kun,” sing-songed Tendou, turning back to the shelves. “He’s probably intimidated by that.”

 

“I’m not sure I understand,” Ushijima said, his head cocking to one side. “You understand me perfectly well, Satori.”

 

“Yeah, but I’ve had practice,” Tendou pointed out. “Trust me, the guy likes you plenty.” Ushijima glanced at Yuutarou, who nodded nervously, then looked at his feet.

 

“If you say so,” he murmured. Then he strode off to take his place behind the help desk once more. Yuutarou sighed and dragged another book toward himself.

 

-

 

Fridays were date night, so when Yuutarou let himself into the dorm that evening it was empty. He supposed that was probably better than the alternative, having been subject to enough of Hinata and Tsukishima’s dates for a lifetime, but it was still a lonely feeling. He turned on the overhead and both lamps, turning on some music to try and chase the heaviness away. After a seven-and-three-quarters-minute staring contest with his economics book, Yuutarou decided a shower was in order. He gathered his toiletries and towel and started off down the hall.

 

Hot showers always made Yuutarou feel like he was coming home. It was the heat, he knew, but he couldn’t place why. His parents’ house had the world’s smallest hot water heater, so it wasn’t like his showers there had been anything better than short and lukewarm. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like the scalding heat was more familiar to him than anything else.

 

When he had scrubbed every inch of himself and shampooed and conditioned his hair and stood under the hot spray for an extra twenty minutes or so, Yuutarou finally turned the water off and reached for a towel. He tugged on a t shirt and a pair of shorts, raking his fingers through his hair, and stepped out of the shower stall and right into Kunimi.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Yuutarou said, stepping back too quickly. His foot slipped in a puddle and he went down, hard.

 

“Are you okay?” Kunimi asked, his hand twitching at his side like he wasn’t sure if he should reach out to help.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Yuutarou said, smiling up at him. Kunimi blinked, looking closer.

 

“I didn’t recognize you,” he said softly, a frown sketching its way between his brows.

 

“Oh, the hair, right?” Yuutarou laughed, running a sheepish hand through it. Kunimi smiled, a tiny, tentative thing, his cheeks and the tips of his ears going pink with the heat from the showers. It was a good look for him.

 

“I like it,” murmured Kunimi. “You should wear it down more often.” Yuutarou made a face.

 

“It gets in my eyes,” he said, not sure why he was so embarrassed. Kunimi snorted.

 

“You could trim it,” he said. “Or pin it back. You don’t have to gel it all straight up.” Yuutarou realized he was still sprawled on the wet floor and started the climb back to his feet.

 

“I could,” he acknowledged. “I dunno, though. I’ve sort of always had this hairstyle. Or at least, since middle school.” Kunimi nodded, looking away, and the air between them suddenly turned awkward. “I should- I should go,” Yuutarou said, a little too loudly. “Enjoy your shower!” Kunimi nodded and might have said something, but Yuutarou was already speed-walking out of the bathroom and down the hall, furious with himself. He was capable of carrying a normal, human conversation, he knew it. But now Kunimi thought he was an idiot, and he had really, really wanted to be his friend and-

 

Yuutarou paused just outside his door. He hadn’t realized before just how much he wanted Kunimi to like him, wanted to be his friend. He groaned, fishing his key out of his shower bag. Any chance he’d had of _that_ happening was dead now, thanks to Yuutarou and his fat mouth.

 

Tsukishima and Hinata were making out on Tsukishima’s bed when Yuutarou let himself in, but he didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, he shuffled over to his bed and flopped face-first onto the mattress.

 

A moment and several loud whispers later, there was a dip in the mattress.

 

“You’re going to catch a cold like that,” said Hinata softly. Yuutarou peeled his face away from the pillow just enough to see him smiling and holding out a towel. Yuutarou nodded, rolling onto the floor so that Hinata could reach him. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to his friend’s ministrations.

 

-

 

Akira had made his mother leave halfway through unpacking his things in his new room. She had been hovering, clearly on the verge of tears, for the past hour, and if Akira had looked up one more time to see that worried look on her face, he was going to scream. He missed her as soon as she was gone. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he turned back to arranging his books carefully on the shelf above his desk.

 

The sound of students flooding the quad under his window had given Akira plenty of warning that his new roommate would be back soon, but he still jumped when the door slammed open. He turned to see a boy about his age, with big blue eyes and silky black hair and a scowl that could make angels weep. He stopped at the sight of Akira, eyes widening and the scowl slipping a bit, before it was back in full force.

 

“What are you doing here?” he growled. Down the hall Akira could hear pounding footsteps.

 

“Kageyama-kun, I told you to wait!” Akira lifted an eyebrow, waiting. Sure enough, a moment later a boy with wild black and white hair came skidding into view. He scowled down at Kageyama, crossing his arms. “I told you to wait back there,” he scolded. “Takeda-sensei wanted to talk to you about your new roommate.”

 

Kageyama blinked, looking rapidly between the boy and Akira. The boy caught the look and followed it, perking up at the sight of Akira.

 

“You must be Kunimi!” he crowed, pushing past Kageyama into the room. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou, I live down the hall.”

 

“Pleasure,” Akira said evenly. Bokuto stuck his hand out, catching Akira’s and shaking it wildly.

 

“If you have any questions about anything, and I mean _anything_ , just let me know,” Bokuto continued. Akira stared at him, not sure what to say. Luckily, at that moment there was a knock on the door and another student, this one older, shorter, and blonde, smiled at Akira. She had on a leather jacket and skinny jeans and there was lightning and broken glass in her smile. Akira liked her straight away.

 

“Bokuto-kun, you do understand that you’re not actually a student aide, right?” she asked. Bokuto stiffened, turning to face the newcomer with a sheepish face.

 

“I was just trying to make him feel welcome,” he said.

 

“And I appreciate that, but for now you should let those of us with jobs do them.” She waited until Bokuto shuffled out, reaching up to pat his shoulder as he went, then turned that smile on Kageyama. “Well, I see you’ve already met your new roommate,” she said. “Kageyama Tobio, this is Kunimi Akira. He’s a benchmark transfer, and you’re going to get along with him, you hear me?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Kageyama muttered. The girl glared at him, but seemed to let it go as she turned to Akira.

 

“My name’s Tanaka Saeko, and I’m the student aide in charge of this floor,” she said. “If you have any questions you want answered properly, don’t take them to Bokuto. He’s sweet and he means well, but he’s a moron.”

 

“Understood,” Akira said. Something soft flickered across Saeko’s face and she stepped in closer.

 

“Hey, it’s okay to be nervous,” she said. “When my little brother first came here, he was in pretty much the same boat as you. I mean, not exactly the same, since he had me, but whatever. Anyway, my point is if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?” Akira stared at her, not sure what to say. She smiled again, and then the sweetness of the moment shattered, leaving the same fireball-energy she’d brought with her. “And you,” she said, turning to face Kageyama. “If I don’t see you at that tutoring session tonight, you’re a dead man.” With that she turned and swept out of the room, leaving it awkward and quiet in her wake.

 

Kageyama was shuffling his weight from foot to foot, looking like he wanted to say something but was unsure of how to get the words out. He glanced at Akira, then back at the floor. Akira bit back a sigh.

 

“I toss in my sleep a lot and I don’t like messes,” he said. “I’m lazy and don’t get out of bed if I don’t have to. My affinity’s fire, I’m allergic to dogs, and I get sick really easily. I’m an only child, single mother.”

 

“O-okay?” Kageyama said, looking at him like he’d grown a second head. Akira bit back another sigh.

 

“We’re going to be living together for a while, right?” he asked. “Don’t roommates usually try to get to know each other?” Kageyama still looked worried, so Akira took a deep breath. “Start simple. What’s your affinity?”

 

“Psycho-telekinetic,” Kageyama answered, closing the door. Akira nodded, sitting on his bed.

 

“Any allergies?”

 

“No.”

 

“Siblings?”

 

“No.”

 

“Pets?”

 

“No.”

 

They passed the time like that, Akira asking questions and Kageyama answering them interrogation-style. It made for a stilted first meeting, but at least Kageyama wasn’t hovering awkwardly in the doorway anymore. He managed to glean that Kageyama had been in a single room for years, because he had nightmares that tended to shake the room. He had winced when he’d said that, clearly waiting for Akira to freak out. Instead, Akira had asked his next question. They ended that day not friends, exactly, but definitely on the path to something that could become friends down the line. Akira supposed that was better than nothing.

 

-*-


	9. Chapter 9

Yuutarou was making no progress on figuring out what to do for their project, and it seemed Kunimi wasn’t either. After their third week meeting up in the cafe with nothing to show for it, Yuutarou was beginning to worry. He had texted Kunimi, asking if he was willing to meet up again on Sunday, and now they were ensconced together on the couch, crammed close so that they could both stare at the screen of Kunimi’s laptop.

 

Yuutarou had been terrified at first that it would be awkward, following his faux pas in the communal bathroom earlier that week. But Kunimi had merely blinked at him, face flushed a tender pink from the cold, and sat down as usual. Yahaba brought over Yuutarou’s order and a cup labeled for customer pick up and left without a word, and that had been it. They had bounced ideas back and forth, looking for something reasonable enough for a class project. When that had failed, they had crammed together to scroll through news articles on Kunimi’s computer.

 

It was warm, so very warm, pressed together like this. Heat radiated from Kunimi’s skin, and Yuutarou found himself struggling not to lean into it. He felt like a kid, wrapped up in the biggest, fluffiest blanket fresh out of the drier, or like he was looking into the face of someone he had known and almost forgotten. It was a curious feeling, but a nice one. Kunimi scrolled some more and suddenly the feeling faded to the back of Yuutarou’s mind.

 

“Wait, go back,” he said. Kunimi scrolled obediently, and clicked on the article that Yuutarou pointed at.

 

It was a forest fire in the south of the country, one that had taken out several houses and fields the previous July. The piece was an update on the reconstruction efforts, and it was dry and utterly unreadable. But it gave Yuutarou an idea.

 

“What if we developed a spell or a ward or something, that could go in the soil around houses, to protect them from fires?” he said slowly. “For small scales, we could enchant one of the quads or a garden or something, weave the magic into the plants so that when you throw some fire at it there won’t be any damage.” He glanced up at Kunimi, only to pause at his reaction.

 

Kunimi was staring at him, eyes wide and swimming with more emotion than Yuutarou had ever seen in them. If Yuutarou didn’t know better, he would say it was terror, absolute, animalistic terror.

 

“We can’t,” he said, his voice sounding like his throat was too tight to push it out. “The tests would be too dangerous.”

 

“It’d be fine,” Yuutarou said slowly, in the same tone he had first used to convince Oikawa to take rest in Yuutarou’s mind. “We’ll clear the area beforehand, and I know you have enough control.”

 

“That’s a lot of trust to be putting in someone you met a month ago,” Kunimi pointed out. Yuutarou shrugged.

 

“Maybe,” he said. “But I know you wouldn’t let it get out of hand.”

 

“How?” Kunimi stared at Yuutarou hard, looking like the answer Yuutarou gave him could change his life forever. Yuutarou thought for a moment.

 

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, feeling as though speaking too loudly would break some sort of spell, precious and delicate. “I don’t know how I know it, but I do. You would never let it get out of hand.” He wanted to add more, wanted to say that Kunimi would never hurt him, but he didn’t. There was no way for him to know that after all.

 

Kunimi stared at him for a moment longer, then looked away with the slightest of nods. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll email Ito-sensei and see if he can get us clearance to experiment in one of the quads.” Kunimi’s phone buzzed and he pulled away to look at it. Yuutarou shuffled slightly, so they weren’t pressed so firmly together. Kunimi sighed and turned back to him.

 

“Is everything okay?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi hesitated.

 

"Everything's fine," he said hesitantly, his voice a little too flat to be the truth. "I think I just saw someone I thought I'd never see again is all. Deciding how to move forward is going to be... tricky." Kunimi's eyes flickered toward the counter, then back to Yuutarou.

 

"Well, I think we've got enough to move forward," Yuutarou said. "If you need to get going, I can type up an outline for our proposal, maybe? Or at least write out the idea, so it's concise." Kunimi nodded.

 

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, that sounds good." He closed his laptop, staring at his hand resting on its lid for a moment. Then with mechanical movements, he slid it into his bag and slung it over his shoulders. With one final pause to glance at Yuutarou and then away too quickly, Kunimi left the cafe.

 

Oikawa walked in for his shift half an hour later and took one look at Yuutarou before flopping down beside him.

 

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said. "Or been one, maybe?"

 

"What does that even mean?" Yuutarou groaned. Oikawa shrugged.

 

"If you don't know, then I can't tell you," he said. "Unless you want me digging deeper than is probably safe or appropriate right now, which I'm always willing to do."

 

"I think I'll pass," Yuutarou said. Oikawa grinned and leaned back, propping his feet up in Yuutarou's lap.

 

"Well, I've got a few minutes before I'm allowed to clock in anyway, so you're stuck with me," he said. "Time to fill your beloved senpai in on all the goings-on in your life."

 

"You've been there for almost all of it," Yuutarou pointed out. "I'm not exactly an exciting person."

 

"Sure you are!" Oikawa admonished. "You're always fun to get a rise out of, anyway."

 

"Fine," Yuutarou snapped. "What do you want to hear?"

 

"How's the love life?" Oikawa asked, his words light but his voice and eyes sharp, pointed. Yuutarou rolled his eyes.

 

"You know full well I don't have one of those," he said.

 

"I know," Oikawa purred. "I just can't figure out why. If you'd just let me-"

 

"No," Yuutarou interrupted. "No, Oikawa-san, no blind dates, no setups, nothing."

 

"You're no fun!" Oikawa whined. "You won't even sleep with Yahaba or Watachin. Everyone sleeps with them!"

 

"Sorry to bore you," Yuutarou muttered. "I'm just not interested."

 

"Well, what are you interested in?" huffed Oikawa. Yuutarou shrugged.

 

"I don't really know," he said. "I don't like the idea of dating someone I'm not friends with first, and I definitely don't want to date anyone I'm friends with now. I don't know that I'm really interested in anyone."

 

"I mean, that's fine," Oikawa said, waving a hand around. "It's boring for me, but whatever."

 

"I weep with sorrow," Yuutarou droned. "How will I ever sleep tonight, knowing it's boring for you?"

 

"Brat," Oikawa hummed. He glanced at his watch and sighed, pulling his feet out of Yuutarou's lap. "Sorry to leave you without my charming company so soon, but Yahaba's got a date with some guy on the baseball team and if I make him late he'll switch my shampoo again." Yuutarou smiled at the memory, waving Oikawa off.

 

-

 

"The world," began Ito-sensei, pausing dramatically with his hands in the air, "is a shithole. No, seriously. Bad things happen every day, to people who don't deserve them. And good things happen to the people who deserve the bad things. Children starve to death, women can't walk the streets at night, the planet is dying at an alarming rate and people are only speeding it up. So. Why do we keep trying? Why do we keep getting out of bed every morning? Why do we keep donating to good causes or recycling our coffee cups or any of the million things we do because we think it'll somehow make a difference?" He was met with silence. It was hard to tell how much of it was because half the class was asleep and how much was because the other half genuinely didn't know the answer. He smiled at them. "Magic," he said. "Magic is what keeps us going.

 

"You all have an affinity of some sort. Otherwise you wouldn't be able to take this class, regardless of your major - a point I find ridiculous, but since the department head has started blocking my emails, not one I can change. The point is, you all have a connection to some specific strand of magic. Some of you can make plants grow. Some can read minds. Some see the future, some brew potions, some cast warding spells. These are things you've known how to do for years. But there's more.

 

"Deep under all the magic you and I are familiar with, the threads of specific breeds and affinities and elements, there is a current. It pulses in the heart of the earth, dances on the edge of the wind, roars and tumbles down waterfalls. It is what holds atoms together, what breathes life into your bodies, what gives us mass and energy and matter. You've all learned this is magical theory and if any of you have taken a physics of magic class, you've learned it there. But it's more than that. This magic doesn't just hold atoms together, it holds cultures too. It reaches between people and draws connections too powerful for us to understand. It creates soulmates, friends, families that are formed not by blood but by loyalty. It is that tug in your chest, the warmth in your cheeks when you look at someone, be that someone your mom or your partner or your dog.

 

"This is the magic I'm talking about. Affinities are great, affinities are wonderful, but they're not what this class is about. This class is about tapping into something deeper than that, and understanding what your affinity - what _you_ \- mean in the grand scheme of the world. Now, I want you all to take out a sheet of paper and, without putting your names on it, so don't worry about anonymity, write down three ways in which your affinity is related to-"

 

Yuutarou was only half-listening to the instructions - and anyway, Ito-sensei was writing them on the board. He was too busy thinking about what the professor had just said.

 

Yuutarou knew there was a deeper magic to the world. He’d felt it before, sometimes when he was too tired to function or when the world felt too sharp, or when he held the talisman he wore a little too tightly. But he had never thought about it in connection with other people.

 

There was a tug in his chest, just like Ito-sensei had said, whenever he thought about Kunimi. It was a sharper pull than the ones connecting him to Oikawa or Tsukishima, more urgent somehow. Almost like the universe was trying to tell him that he and Kunimi were connected, that they were meant to become friends. He glanced over at the quiet boy int he seat next to him, admiring the slant of his nose and the pout he always got when he concentrated. He liked Kunimi, in a way he hadn’t really liked anyone before. He had never _wanted_ to be friends with someone; it had always just happened, like puzzle pieces falling into place. But as Yuutarou started scribbling down the answers to Ito-sensei’s questions, he found himself wondering what Kunimi was writing, and what he’d think about what Yuutarou wrote. He wondered what went on behind the steel walls in Kunimi’s eyes.

 

He wondered if he would ever get to know.

 

-

 

Akira learned very quickly that Kageyama Tobio was not to be taken lightly. He was quiet enough during the day, clearly afraid of saying anything that would offend in most situations. He opened up somewhat around certain students, though Akira had only caught the tail ends of conversations or glimpses of glares before Kageyama would catch sight of him and withdraw again. The problem arose at night.

 

Kageyama was a powerful psycho-telekinetic mage, with remarkable control during the day. When he slept, however, he had nightmares that shook the room and sent parades of images and thoughts careening through Akira’s mind. After the third sleepless night in a row, Akira found himself knocking on Saeko’s door, desperate. It was Sunday, and if he didn’t get any sleep again that night, he would be useless in class the next day.

 

“Ah, Kunimi-kun.” Saeko didn’t look surprised to see him. Disappointment colored her eyes for just a moment, then she stepped aside to let him in. A tall, pretty girl with long black hair eyed him curiously from one of the beds, and Saeko sat in the other, gesturing for Akira to take a desk chair. “How can I help you?” she asked.

 

“I’m not sure if you can,” he replied, looking down at his hands folded in his lap.

 

“Well, how ‘bout you start by telling me what’s up, and then we’ll see what I can do?” She smiled at Akira, clearly going for sweet but not quite making it. Still, the confidence in her eyes bolstered Akira somewhat.

 

“I was wondering if there was anything I could do to block Kageyama’s psychic presence, or something like that,” he said with a frown. It wasn’t quite what he’d meant to ask, but now that he was here he had no idea how to phrase it. “I just, he has these-”

 

“Nightmares, we know,” Saeko said. She sighed, looking sad all of a sudden. “Kageyama-kun is a good kid, at his core. But he’s very powerful, and his control isn’t all that great. He manages it by stuffing everything down and letting it out in these great big bursts when it’s safe, but sometimes he doesn’t get it all out. So at night, when his defenses are down, he can’t stop hearing everyone around him. You can probably imagine how hard that can be. He’s had lots of roommates before, but they rarely last more than a week or so.”

 

“Is there anything I could do to help with that?” Akira asked. Saeko blinked.

 

“You mean, you don’t just want to transfer?” she asked. “No one would blame you, you know.” Akira shook his head.

 

“I get what it’s like to lose control like that,” he said quietly. “And anyway, the headmistress said there were no other rooms available.”

 

“There aren’t, but-”

 

“Saeko.” Akira jumped in his seat. He had forgotten about Saeko’s roommate. “We could talk to Takeda-sensei.” Akira looked back at Saeko, who stared at her roommate with wide eyes.

 

“You think?” she asked. “I mean, if they’d both agree. But it’s not very common at their age.”

 

“It may be the only option,” the roommate said. “I mean, they’d probably pair him with an older student eventually, but if Kunimi-kun is willing, then I don’t see why not.”

 

“Kunimi-kun.” Saeko turned to face Akira with the kind of light in her eyes that made him want to shrink away at the same time it made him want to do whatever she asked of him. “There is a way that you can help Kageyama, but it can be very dangerous. Even if it goes well, it will mean lots of intense training. But it’s something that can change both of your lives for the better, and which will help your magical ability immensely.” Akira blinked at her.

 

“What exactly is it?” he asked slowly. The roommate answered him.

 

“When a psychic reaches a certain level in their education, they are required to take on a partner of sorts. Someone without any psychic ability who helps the psychic to control their power by letting them in. It forms an intimate bond, and it gives both partners new insights into not only each other, but into themselves and the world around them as well.”

 

“You want me to become his dog,” Akira said. The roommate made a face.

 

“I hate that term,” she muttered. “Look, I know it seems frightening at first, but it really does open your horizons. Saeko is my partner, and my little brother, Tetsurou, has one too. Neither of them have regretted it, right?”

 

“Not at all,” Saeko said. “Hey, if you’re not okay with it, then no problem. We can see about shuffling some rooms around, or squeezing you in somewhere with two. Kageyama-kun will be partnered with an older student anyway, probably sometime in a couple years. Like I said, no one will think any less of you.”

 

Akira thought about it. He’d heard horror stories about people who’d let psychics in, who allowed them to play around in their minds and came out hollow versions of their former selves. But he’d also heard whispers of something better.

 

And he had also seen the look on Kageyama’s face the first morning, when he’d found Akira picking up the mess from the nightmare he’d had the night before. The horror, the self-loathing, the utter disappointment.

 

Akira knew what that was like.

 

“I think,” he said, very slowly and very quietly, “I think I want to try. If he wants to. I guess.” Saeko smiled at him, and this time, since she wasn’t trying, she managed sweet.

 

“Thank you, Kunimi-kun,” she said. Then her smile slipped somewhat and she looked at her roommate with a grim set to her jaw. “Now we just have to talk to Kageyama.” Akira looked between them, trepidation blossoming in his chest at the way they both looked prepared for battle.

 

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked. Saeko sighed.

 

“Let’s just say he’s not exactly the most responsive person when it comes to offers of help.” She stood, dusting off her hands and rolling her shoulders. “Well, then, let’s get this over with,” she said.

 

Akira followed her down the hall, wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into this time.

 

-*-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REMEMBERED IT WAS WEDNESDAY GUYS! BARELY, BUT STILL!


	10. Chapter 10

“Do you think he’s gonna come out of it?”

 

“I don’t fucking know! You’re the one who put him under!”

 

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean to do it so much! I just wanted him to follow me!”

 

“Will you two please stop shouting? I’m trying to concentrate.”

 

“Why did you have to bring him back here in the first place? What’s wrong with either of your rooms?”

 

“Yours is cold.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense!”  


Yuutarou took a deep breath, standing outside his room with a hand on the doorknob. He could hear Tsukishima, Hinata, and Yamaguchi bickering inside, and it never boded well. Whatever they were up to, Yuutarou was sure he wanted no part in it.

 

But his bag was in the room, with his wallet inside, and he really needed his ID to get into the cafeteria. His stomach rumbled, making his mind up for him. He turned the knob, taking one last moment to steady himself, then walked inside.

 

All in all, it was not the worst scene he had come home to. Tsukishima was fuming by the windows, Hinata frowning nearby, Yamaguchi hunched over a small cauldron, and Kyoutani sitting dazed and tied up in the center of the floor. The couch had been pushed up against Yuutarou’s bed, leaving the space around Kyoutani and Yamaguchi clear. A simple circle had been marked on the floorboards in chalk, symbols sketched here and there around its circumference. Hinata and Tsukishima looked up at him, shoulders tense and eyes wide, while Yamaguchi continued stirring his cauldron.

 

“If he’s going to report us there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Yamaguchi said. Yuutarou sighed.

 

“Just, whatever it is, clean up after yourselves,” he said. Yamaguchi gave him a thumbs up as he sprinkled a silvery powder into his cauldron, smiling ever so slightly when the entire concoction turned lavender and started to smell strongly of rain and paper. Yuutarou grabbed his bag off his desk, paused to greet each of his plants, then left the room. He closed the door just in time for a loud popping noise to echo inside the room.

 

“They’re not going to get caught,” said a small voice at his elbow. Yuutarou turned to look at Yachi, whose face was white. “They’re not going to get caught, but it’s not going to go right.”

 

“Is it anything I need to stop them from doing?” Yuutarou asked her. She trembled, looking up at him, and he rephrased. “Is it anything that’s going to end up with one or more of them severely injured or without use of their upper reasoning skills?”

 

“Oh. No, in that case, it’s fine.” She frowned at something he couldn’t see.

 

“I’m just going to the cafeteria,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”

 

“Stay away from the udon,” she said. “And no, I promised Shouyou I’d help him study for his math exam, if he ever comes out of there. Thank you for the offer, though.” She turned and disappeared into her room once more. Yuutarou shook his head and continued on his way, thinking that he would probably never understand precogs. Or maybe it was just Yachi, and the way she always seemed to be both a scattered, nervous mess and a mysterious, ethereal seeress. Probably something to do with all the jewelery she wore.

 

The sun was setting by the time Yuutarou set out for the cafeteria, a bitter wind blowing across the campus. It didn’t have any of the playfulness or brooding drama of a mage-born wind, meaning it was just winter shoving itself down Yuutarou’s throat again. He pulled his scarf tighter around himself and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, pretending the world didn’t exist.

 

Halfway across campus he caught sight of a familiar figure among the students flooding out of one of the science buildings. Yuutarou thought about waving, was in the process of pulling his hand from his pocket when he stopped short.

 

Someone was waiting for Kunimi. He had been leaning up against the wall of the building before, but when Kunimi emerged he pushed himself to his feet and called out. He was tall, bundled up against the cold, and as soon as he was close enough he wrapped his arms around Kunimi and pulled him in close. Kunimi allowed the touch, even seemed to lean into it. The pair walked off, rounding the building and slipping from Yuutarou’s sight as he stood there, hand half-raised, blinking in surprise. He shook his head, slowly lowering his hand back into his pocket, and kept walking.

 

For the rest of the walk and all through selecting his food and finding a seat, Yuutarou berated himself. Of course Kunimi had other friends. Of course he had people he was close to. Yuutarou had no place, no right to be so upset.

 

And no reason. He had never felt this way around anyone else before. When Hinata and Tsukishima had - finally, _finally -_ gotten together, it had been a breath of relief. When Oikawa had reconnected with Kageyama and met Yahaba and Suga and all of his many, many friends, Yuutarou had been happy for him. He and Kunimi weren’t even actually friends. They were barely acquaintances, brought together by a shared class and a supposedly psychic hat and nothing more. Yuutarou knew next to nothing about him, and he probably never would. They would complete this project, the semester would end, and they would part ways, and that would be that. They would forget all about each other.

 

The thought curled unpleasantly in Yuutarou’s stomach. The fact was, he didn’t _want_ to forget Kunimi, and he certainly didn’t want Kunimi to forget him. They were meant to meet, meant to be friends, he knew it. He just couldn’t say why he knew it. With a sigh, he dipped his hand into the front of his shirt and wrapped his fingers around the glass talisman hanging there. He couldn’t quite remember where he’d gotten it, but it never failed to comfort him when he held it like this. It felt like home, the same way warm showers and fields full of flowers did.

 

With a sigh, Yuutarou let the pendant drop, shoving all thoughts of Kunimi and friendships and fate to the back of his mind. He had more important things to worry about. Namely, his phone buzzing in his pocket, cutting short his reprieve and probably summoning him for damage control back int he dorm. He fished it out with a groan. Sure enough, there was a mostly-indecipherable text from Hinata, and a translation from Tsukishima. He dropped his phone on the table, resolved to finish his dinner before dealing with whatever mess they’d gotten into this time.

 

-

 

Yamaguchi, for his part, was making a good effort and playing contrition. Yuutarou didn’t believe him for an instant, but it was a valiant attempt.

 

“So you’re telling me,” Yuutarou said, the bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and first to fingers, “that you had Shouyou ‘convince’ Kyoutani to come back here so that you could feed him a truth potion, and you’re more upset about the fact that it worked than you are that it turned him blue.”

 

“It’s a common side effect,” Yamaguchi said, waving a hand as though batting away Yuutarou’s question. “And anyway, it’s a good shade for him.”

 

It was a good shade. Kyoutani’s skin was a delicate pale cyan, like the sky in the very early morning. It darkened near his fingertips and around his eyes, making him look like a painting of an icy giant out of a children’s tale. He had never looked more like his nature, like clouds rolling across a summer sky or like rain dropping against the surface of a crystalline lake.

 

“That’s beside the point,” Yuutarou growled. “Why would you even use it on him in the first place?”

 

“So we could get some good blackmail material, of course!” Hinata offered from his place sprawled on the couch. “Tadashi needed something he could tell Yahaba-san, to make Kyoutani-kun’s life miserable.” He sounded so happy when he said it, so bright and innocent. It made Yuutarou want to bash his head against a wall.

 

“But it worked too well,” Yamaguchi sighed, sounding actually upset for the first time.

 

“What, did he tell you he hated you forever and ever now?” Yuutarou droned. Yamaguchi’s frown deepened.

 

“Yeah, something like that,” he muttered.

 

“Yamaguchi?” Yuutarou wasn’t exactly sure what to do. He and Yamaguchi weren’t best friends, exactly, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see him so upset. He reached out, hand hovering awkwardly over Yamaguchi’s shoulder, before all at once Yamaguchi slumped into his side, head nuzzling at his shoulder.

 

“He told me that he hated when I showed up at the cafe, or when we passed each other on the streets. He told me about this ex girlfriend, and how she never made him feel like that. He told me how easy it was with her, and how much my _pursuing_ him made him want to hide, to go away where I couldn’t reach him and never come back. So. Yeah.” Yuutarou made a sound too soft and uncertain to be a hum, but he draped his arm across Yamaguchi’s shoulders and pulled him in close.

 

“Are you sure he meant it the way you think?” he asked softly. Yamaguchi shrugged.

 

“Truth potions are tricky,” he admitted. “But it’s not like he left much open to interpretation. How did he phrase it, Shou? That bit about his hands?”

 

“Seeing your face makes his hands itch the same way they did when he got into fights all the time in high school,” Hinata replied, a bit too happy. Yuutarou glanced at him and he shrugged. “ _I_ can tell he’s interpreting this all wrong. Just because he can’t doesn’t mean I have to wallow too.”

 

“You’re a moron,” Tsukishima said, not without a fond note to his voice. Hinata shrugged again.

 

“Look, either Yamaguchi’s right and it doesn’t matter either way, or I’m right and it doesn’t matter either way. No matter what, we can’t exactly change Kyoutani-kun’s mind. He feels how he feels.” He grinned triumphantly at that, leaving Yuutarou feeling both confident and exasperated.

 

“Well, regardless of how he feels,” he said, giving Yamaguchi one last squeeze and pushing himself to his feet, “we have to do something about the blue. I don’t want to talk to the RA when he finds out you’ve been brewing illicit substances in here again.”

 

“I’m going to need rosemary,” Yamaguchi said. Yuutarou rolled his eyes.

 

“Fine,” he sighed. “Hand me a pot.” Hinata passed one over, already filled with potting soil, and Yuutarou pressed his hands to it, his eyes closing. His phone buzzed in his back pocket, but he ignored it in favor of shaping each purple petal. Rosemary could be prissy, and it required his full attention to get the plant to grow just right. When he opened his eyes, letting the last tendrils of his magic seep into the soil, he had a small bush inside the pot, a riotous bloom dusting its top. He handed it over to Yamaguchi, then sat back with a satisfied smile and fished his phone out.

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [attachment: 1 img]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [I found the saddest turnip in the cafeteria today]

 

Yuutarou frowned, opening the image Oikawa had sent him. It was a little blurry, obviously zoomed in and taken from across the room, but it was still clearly Yuutarou, frowning down at his dinner. He bit back a sigh.

 

ME: [Oikawa-san, why are you taking pictures of me across crowded rooms again? You know you could just talk to me.]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [Details, kindaichi, details]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [But you did look remarkably forlorn. Need anything?]

 

Yuutarou thought about it. It was only a matter of time before Oikawa would be in his head again, and he would find out sooner or later. But a part of Yuutarou still resisted, still wanted to keep this to himself, at least for a little bit. He watched Yamaguchi brewing a new draft and sighed.

 

ME: [Nothing at all, Oikawa-san.]

 

-

 

If Kageyama was a force to be reckoned with, he was nothing - absolutely _nothing_ \- in comparison to the wildfire that was Tanaka Saeko. She stood before him, twenty-five centimeters shorter and infinitely more dangerous, jabbing a finger at his chest.

 

“Don’t you dare start that shit with me, Kageyama, you know full well it won’t work,” she snarled. Kageyama looked for a moment like he might fold, but then with a clench of his jaw and a flash of his eye, he shook his head.

 

“I don’t need a partner,” he growled - and it was a growl, low and rumbly and probably intimidating to anyone who hadn’t seen him smile at that row of ducklings that had trooped past the dorm the day before, not that Kageyama needed to know that Akira _had_ seen it. Saeko simply raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Kageyama-kun,” said Saeko’s roommate - Kiti, she’d told Akira on the walk over - as she stepped up to set a hand on Saeko’s shoulder. “You know as well as we do that it’s only a matter of time before the school partners you with someone anyway. Kunimi-kun is willing to take the step now. It would save you months, if not years of stress.”

 

“I’m _fine,_ ” Kageyama snapped. His voice cracked and his eyes were wide, the color rushing from his face. All at once, Akira understood.

 

“You won’t hurt me,” he said slowly. All eyes snapped to him, but he looked only at Kageyama. “That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

 

“Of course it isn’t what I’m-” Kageyama started, but Akira wasn’t listening.

 

“That’s why we’re here, though,” he said. “Because we’re too powerful to let loose without advanced training. Because if we try to do it all ourselves, it blows up in our faces.”

 

“What would you know,” Kageyama snarled, his face going dark and cruel, “about things blowing up in your face?” Akira could feel the anger that tried to claw its way to the surface, the offense and indignation he could easily throw in Kageyama’s face. He set it gently aside.

 

“Look,” he murmured. Kageyama stared at him, so he took a step forward. “Go ahead and look. I’ll show you.”

 

“I’ll hurt you,” Kageyama argued, but Akira could already feel the edges of his mind bumping around, like curious fingers poking at a seem. Akira felt it like a physical hand brushing against his forehead, and then against something he couldn’t name but was no less a part of him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Kiti straighten her spine and hold up a hand.

 

“You might want to sit down, Kunimi-kun,” she said. “The first time can be a little jarring.” She glanced at Saeko as she said it, a grim set to her jaw. Akira nodded, lowering himself into his desk chair. Saeko stood beside him, one hand on his shoulder, a comforting weight. Slowly, he looked up at Kageyama, and nodded.

 

For all that he had expected it to be a foreign experience, having someone else in his mind was oddly familiar. The jolt the realization gave him nearly knocked him from his chair as memories of the benchmark test dragged themselves to the forefront of his mind. It had barely been five days since then, but to Akira it seemed years ago. Kageyama gasped, clutching the edge of his desk, and though Akira saw it, he also couldn’t see anything but the burning field. He could feel Hamada-san’s magic ripping through him again, could smell the smoke and feel the heat and see Kindaichi standing with his hands raised to his mouth, screaming for him. The horror was there, fresh still, and the self-loathing that had never really gone away. He bared it all to Kageyama, understanding even as he did so that he would not have been able to hide.

 

The room began to grow hot, the real, physical room that they were sitting in. Akira’s magic sprang to his fingertips, overeager as it always seemed these days. He tried to push it back, but too much of his mind was still on that field.

 

Just as he began to panic and Kiti began to speak, the fire was whisked away from his skin. It hovered in a tight ball in the middle of the room, just in front of Saeko’s outstretched palm. With a measured breath, she touched one fingertip to the ball, and it faded away. Akira was so caught up in watching her that he almost didn’t notice Kageyama pulling away from him, until all of a sudden he was alone in his mind and there was nothing holding him up anymore. Kiti caught him as he slumped to one side.

 

“Kunimi-kun, I need you to open your eyes,” she said, her voice crisp and businesslike. He did as she asked, and she considered him for a moment. “Where are you?” she asked.

 

“The- the dorms,” he replied with a tongue that felt like it was made of oatmeal.

 

“What day is it?”

 

“Sunday?”

 

“And what color are my nails?”

 

“Red.”

 

“Well, that went remarkably well,” she said with a brilliant smile as she helped him sit upright. “I think you two are perfectly compatible. If you want, we can talk to Takeda-sensei this afternoon, once he’s done with his meetings.” Akira looked up at Kageyama, who regarded him with a new light in his eyes. He curled and uncurled his fingers around the desk unconsciously, and looked away.

 

“Fine,” he muttered to the wall. “I’ll do it.”

 

-*-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten chapters in! Exciting things are coming, friends!


	11. Chapter 11

This proposal was going to be the death of Yuutarou. Literally. He was literally going to die before it was finished, and his mother would have to write on his tombstone _here lies Yuutarou, defeated by a 1500 word essay._

 

“You’re being over-dramatic,” Kunimi said. His voice was fond and he was watching Yuutarou with eyes alight with laughter. Yuutarou blinked balefully at him.

 

“The end is drawing near, Kunimi-kun,” he droned. “I can feel death coming for me.”

 

“If you want to take a break, just say so.”

 

“I want to take a break.”

 

Kunimi laughed at that, flipping the lid to his laptop closed and leaning back in his seat. He seemed happier today than Yuutarou had ever seen him, and it was taking everything Yuutarou had not to sit there and just stare at him. He opened his mouth to ask Kunimi if he wanted a refill on his hot chocolate, but what came out instead was, “You’re really pretty when you smile like that.”

 

The smile didn’t fade from Kunimi’s face, not quite, but it was a near thing. He looked down at his lap while Yuutarou scrambled for something to say.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled at last. “That was inappropriate.”

 

“It’s fine,” Kunimi said. An awkward silence settled over them like a blanket, or like Tsukishima when he got drunk and cuddly. Yuutarou swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat, then coughed lightly.

 

“Do, uh, do you want a refill on that?” he asked, gesturing to Kunimi’s cup. Kunimi startled, looking between Yuutarou and the cup, then nodded.

 

“Thanks,” he murmured. Yuutarou scooped up the cup and tried not to sprint to the counter, where Kageyama was snickering at him.

 

“Shut up,” Yuutarou muttered as Kageyama took Kunimi’s cup and tossed it in the trash. He pulled out two fresh ones and turned to start making their drinks, carrying that aura of smugness with him as he went. Yuutarou took the moment to gather himself, breathing deeply as he leaned against the counter.

 

“You look exhausted.” Oikawa’s voice startled Yuutarou so badly he nearly fell, only his scramble to clutch at the counter saving him. Oikawa raised an eyebrow at him, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He glanced at Kageyama, then at Kunimi, and the grin grew wider.

 

“Oikawa-san,” Yuutarou warned. Oikawa only smiled, slipping behind the counter to grab his apron.

 

“You should ask him about his dinner,” Oikawa sing-songed as he picked up one of the cups Kageyama had grabbed and set about filling it. “He had a _great_ time, you know.”

 

“That’s none of my business,” Yuutarou snapped. “And it’s definitely none of yours.”

 

“Just ask him,” Oikawa huffed, thrusting a completed latte at Yuutarou. Kageyama reappeared a moment later with Kunimi’s hot chocolate, looking at Yuutarou with that blank expression of his. Yuutarou sighed and took the cups, turning on his heel to slump back over to his seat. Kunimi accepted his drink with a murmured thanks and a glare at the counter.

 

“So, do we give them what they want and hope they’ll leave us alone, or ignore them and face later consequences?” Yuutarou asked. A new smile flickered across Kunimi’s face.

 

“I think we’ve taken a long enough break,” he said, opening his laptop again. Yuutarou groaned, but dragged himself upright enough that he could see the screen.

 

As they worked, Yuutarou found himself leaning comfortably into Kunimi’s space. He reached over Kunimi to grab a napkin from the table, pressed against his arm to better read their work, actually folded himself over his lap in order to add something himself. It was remarkable only in how easy it was, and how natural the intense warmth of Kunimi’s body felt against Yuutarou’s. It was as though they had already done this a thousand times before, and every bone in Yuutarou’s body sang out at how _right_ it was. They had been working this way for over an hour, pressed so close that Yuutarou couldn’t quite tell where he ended and Kunimi began, when a sudden arm wrapped around Kunimi’s shoulder, the body attached to it plopping down on the couch next to him.

 

“Hey, babe,” said the newcomer, leaning close to give Kunimi a smarmy grin. “Miss me?”

 

“I always miss you, Tetsurou,” Kunimi said, and Yuutarou couldn’t quite tell if he was joking or not. Nevertheless, he slowly eased himself away from Kunimi’s side - and from the man whom he had greeted so warmly the day before. The man pulled his arm away to dig into his bag, shifting so he could better face Kunimi, though their knees stayed pressed together.

 

“You left this at my sister’s last night,” he said, holding out a neatly folded pair of shorts. Kunimi turned red, glancing in Yuutarou’s direction, and snatched them out of his hand, stuffing them in his bag. A grin stretched across the man’s face as he leaned to one side so that he could examine Yuutarou with eyes that felt dangerously sharp, oddly similar to Oikawa’s for all that they looked nothing alike. “And who might this be?” he asked.

 

“A classmate,” Kunimi snapped. Yuutarou tried not to feel hurt at how curt and unfamiliar the word felt, like Kunimi was shoving him to a careful arm’s distance and holding him there.

 

“Kunimi, don’t be rude,” the man scolded. “Kuroo Tetsurou,” he said to Yuutarou, stretching out a hand. Yuutarou eyed it for a moment, wondering why it looked so much like a trap, then shook it.

 

“Kindaichi Yuutarou,” he said.

 

“ _Kindaichi_ , huh?” Kuroo repeated, grinning wider. “Good name. Strong name. The kind of name an earth mage might have?”

 

“That’s- that’s right,” Yuutarou said, blinking. “How’d you-”

 

“Lucky guess,” Kuroo said, waving a hand. “Anyway, what’s got you two cooped up on a day like this? Big assignment?”

 

“You know full well what we’re working on, I told you about it last night,” Kunimi snapped. “Now, go bother someone else for a change, will you?” Kuroo turned his grin on Kunimi, and something passed between them that made Yuutarou feel like he was standing on the other side of a locked door, listening to a conversation he couldn’t make out the words of. He closed his eyes for a moment to clear his head, and when he opened them again the moment had passed.

 

“Well, I’d love to stay, kids, but I’ve got lives to save and all that,” Kuroo said. He gripped Kunimi’s chin, holding him in place as he darted in to smack a loud, wet kiss on his cheek, and then he was off, leaving the cafe in a storm of laughter and hair. Yuutarou couldn’t help but stare after him.

 

“I’m sorry.” The sigh drew Yuutarou back to the couch, unaware until that moment that his mind had drifted so far from it. He glanced at Kunimi, who was scowling at the table in front of them. “He’s… an old friend, and doesn’t really do boundaries. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable.”

 

“He didn’t,” Yuutarou said automatically. “Okay, he did,” he scrambled when Kunimi gave him a flat look, “but not that much.” Kunimi sighed.

 

“Sorry,” he said again. Yuutarou paused. He had always read stories where the protagonist could see two paths before them, two roads a choice could take them down. He’d always thought it was just fanciful prose before. But now, looking at the side of Kunimi’s face in the bright afternoon light, at the half-formed smirk and the shadow of his eyes, Yuutarou could see it as clear as day. He could brush it off and continue on as they had been before, or he could take a chance.

 

He leapt.

 

“How do you know him?” he asked. For such a simple question, it felt like the biggest risk he had ever taken. But Kunimi smiled.

 

“We met in middle school,” he said. “His older sister’s roommate was the student aide for our floor, and he helped Kageyama and I sort out a lot of things when we were first getting started. He’s an ass, but he’s an ass who’s been a good friend for a long time.”

 

“I know how that is,” Yuutarou laughed. Kunimi’s smile grew fond and a little distant, and it made the breath catch in Yuutarou’s throat.

 

“He was there for me when pretty much no one else was,” he said. “He and his sister and the Tanakas, they sort of became my family after we- after I left my hometown.” Something darker crossed Kunimi’s face, almost like the ghost of a long-forgotten sadness. Yuutarou bit the inside of his cheek.

 

“When I was in my second year of middle school, I didn’t really have any friends,” he started. “I don’t- I don’t actually remember much of it, but one day Hinata, my roommate’s boyfriend, just kinda sat down in front of me and decided we were friends. He’s a total pain in the neck, and Tsukishima isn’t any better, but.” He shrugged.

 

“I know Hinata,” Kunimi said softly. “He’s Kageyama’s friend. Yachi helps them study. I didn’t realize he had a boyfriend.” Yuutarou smiled.

 

“Yeah, it’s kind of a long story. He and Tsukishima acted like they hated each other, all through middle and high school. They finally got together like a week after we all started here.” Kunimi smiled at him, and Yuutarou found himself wanting to tell the whole story, all the years of bickering, all the backhanded compliments, the frantic conversations they’d had with him separately when they each realized they were in love with their own worst enemy, the pining, oh god, the pining. Tsukishima and Hinata and Yamaguchi had been such a big part of his life for years, but sitting here with Kunimi, they felt like a sideshow. Like Kunimi was the main attraction, and now it was time to get back to him. It felt like catching up with someone he hadn’t seen in a long time, not like sharing himself with someone new. But Kunimi was smiling, and Yuutarou’s heart stuttered just slightly in his chest.

 

“Tell me about them,” Kunimi said. So Yuutarou did.

 

He told Kunimi about the time Tsukishima had gotten his head stuck in a toilet because Hinata had dared him to give himself a swirlie, and after no one was sure if it had been because of Hinata’s magic or Tsukishima’s stubbornness. He told him about the way Yamaguchi had laughed so hard when Tsukishima told them about his crush on Hinata that tea had come out of his nose. He told him about the good days and the sunsets and the trips to the beach, about graduation and study sessions and coming to university and how Yuutarou would never have gotten through first year algebra without Tsukishima’s help. He told him about when Hinata first started dating Yachi, and how they had all waited for an explosion that never came.

 

He told Kunimi about the bad, too. He recounted the fights, the insecurities, the time Hinata had stopped speaking to anyone because he was too afraid of ruining them. Kunimi listened with a profound, too-personal sadness when Yuutarou told him about the early days, when he had wandered through life feeling like there was a hole in his chest, though he couldn’t say now what caused it. He grew quiet after that, looking down at the long-cold dregs of his latte, wondering why it hurt so much to share. He was silent for what could have been eternity. Then a voice broke through the quiet, soft and gentle and familiar.

 

“I moved towns in the winter of my first year of middle school.” Kunimi said it carefully, like he was choosing exactly how much he could give. “I left my best friend behind, and we never really talked after that. Kageyama and the Kuroos and the Tanakas and the Haibas were a blessing, and it took me a long time to realize just how much.” Yuutarou found himself smiling, settling back in his seat to look at Kunimi without straining his neck.

 

“Tell me about them,” he said. So Kunimi did.

 

-

 

Takeda-sensei was a small and mousy-looking man, but his eyes were bright and he had a presence that filled the entire room. Akira was struck by the notion that this man probably held more power than anyone knew, and that he would not be hesitant to use it if need demanded. He glared at the group assembled in front of his desk, and though Akira had never met him before, he was vaguely horrified at the possibility of having disappointed him.

 

“So you mean to tell me that you allowed a twelve-year-old, untrained psychic enter the memories of another twelve-year-old, with whom he was not familiar, _before_ consulting me?” he asked.

 

“We had to convince him to come down here somehow,” Saeko muttered under her breath. Takeda-sensei pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

 

“I expect this sort of behavior from your younger brothers,” he said. “But the two of you are supposed to be role models, you’re supposed to-”

 

“Kageyama-kun has had two nightmare-free nights in the past month,” Kiti interrupted. “Kunimi-kun has spent three nights with him, and already the wear is beginning to show. Soon it will not be limited to those in the room with him, but other students on the floor as well. It was imperative Kageyama-kun begin his training early. Saeko and I took those steps necessary to ensure that.”

 

“What she said,” Saeko chirped, nodding seriously. Takeda sighed heavily through his nose.

 

“Kunimi-kun, have you been made aware of the risks involved in such a partnership?” he asked without looking up from his desk.

 

“Not formally,” Akira admitted, “but I know the stories.” Takeda nodded.

 

“There is some literature I will need you to read, and an official form saying you’ve read them. Kageyama-kun has already filled one out. There will be a trial period, and several supervised sessions before you will be assigned a pair of older students to be your mentors.” He stopped suddenly, looking first Akira, then Kageyama in the eye. “This is a very serious decision,” he said. “These bonds can be broken, but it is very difficult to do so. You will likely never be fully rid of the effects you will have on one another.”

 

“I know,” Kageyama said softly. Takeda nodded and looked at Akira, who paused.

 

He wondered what Kindaichi would think. Kindaichi, with this distrust of psychics in general and his over-protectiveness of Akira in particular. Kindaichi, with his wide, innocent eyes and his determination to stand by Akira’s side even though it was dangerous.

 

Kindaichi, standing at the edge of a burning field. Kindaichi, reaching for Akira even as he burned.

 

“I’ll do it,” Akira said. Takeda nodded and began talking to Saeko and Kiti, but Akira couldn’t hear him over the pounding of his heart. He knew he needed to let Kindaichi go, but actually doing it was proving harder than he’d anticipated. All he could see was Kindaichi’s smiling face, then Kageyama’s scowl, the two tumbling over one another in the cacophony of Akira’s mind. Kageyama winced and Kiti glanced back at him, concerned.

 

“Are you alright?” she asked in a soft voice one might use to coax a feral animal. Akira took a deep breath.

 

“I’m fine,” he lied, knowing that no one in the room believed him. “Just a little tired.”

 

“I’m afraid you won’t be getting much rest next term,” Takeda said, shuffling through some papers. “Once classes begin again, you and Kageyama-kun will be placed in a special course, which is more rigorous than what you both would normally take. And Kunimi-kun, you will be learning advanced control techniques, to ensure that your affinity does not become dangerous during sessions with Kageyama-kun, as well as entry-level psychic theory. And in the meantime, I am afraid I cannot do anything about your dorm situation.”

 

“That’s fine,” Saeko said. “If Kunimi-kun needs to, he can crash in my brother’s room for a night or two.”

 

“Tanaka-san, you know that dorm-sharing is against the rules,” Takeda scolded.

 

“An afternoon or two, then,” Saeko said, waving her hand. “Long enough for a nap, then back to his room before curfew.” Takeda sighed at her and she grinned at him, an exchange that was obviously familiar to both.

 

“Very well,” Takeda said at last, tearing his eyes from Saeko and ignoring the victory fist-pump she gave. “I’ll have a meeting arranged with the headmistress to get this all sorted out. In the meantime, I suggest you both get as much rest as possible. You’re going to need it.” Akira let himself be herded out of the room by Saeko and Kiti, following them mutely down the hall with Kageyama shuffling along at his side like a stormcloud. They didn’t make it far before they ran into Bokuto and a tall, scruffy boy who looked unnervingly like Kiti.

 

“What are you two up to this time?” Saeko sighed when they skidded to a stop and grinned at them. “And while I’m at it, where is my brother and the rest of your trouble-makers?”

 

“Hey, Kenma’s not a trouble-maker” Bokuto protested.

 

“No, but Ryuu and Lev are, and Kenma will let them do whatever they want as long as it means he doesn’t have to move for it.” Saeko glared up at Bokuto and his friend. A grin broke across her face, sharp and dangerous. “Kiti-chan,” she sing-songed. Kiti glanced at her, then at the others, and hummed thoughtfully.

 

“I don’t see why not,” she said.

 

“Don’t see why not _what_ , Neechan?” asked the other boy. She smiled sweetly at him.

 

“Tetsu,” she said, her voice all sugar and poison, “meet Kunimi-kun. You and Koutarou-kun are going to help him and Kageyama-kun set up a psychic partnership.” Akira looked up at them, a sinking feeling in his gut telling him that she had just made his life much, much more difficult.


	12. Chapter 12

When Yuutarou’s phone started buzzing in his pocket in the middle of a lecture on the history of faerie gold one day, he ignored it. When it immediately began buzzing again, a prickle of dread poked at the edge of his mind, but he ignored it still.

 

When it rang a third time, he shoved his notebook into his bag and was out of the lecture hall within ten seconds. He answered the call on the last ring, not even bothering to look at the caller id.

 

“Where?” he asked, already hustling out of the building.

 

“The library.” It was Iwaizumi who answered him, though that wasn’t too much of a surprise. “Third floor bathroom.” Yuutarou glanced at the sky.

 

“I’ll be about three minutes,” he said as he quickened his pace.

 

“No need to rush,” Iwaizumi said dryly. “He’s not going anywhere.” There was a scuffle, then the dull beeping of a line disconnected as Iwaizumi hung up.

 

Yuutarou supposed that was a good sign. If Iwaizumi could be sarcastic about it, that meant that it wasn’t dangerous to anyone but Oikawa. Of course, that meant that Oikawa _was_ in danger, but Yuutarou couldn’t think of that just yet. All he could do at that moment was get to the library before Oikawa broke anyone.

 

He arrived in the library short of breath and bolted up the stairs immediately, not willing to risk the time it would take to call the elevator. The bathroom was just off to one side, and Yuutarou jogged over to it. He paused just outside, wincing.

 

No one else in the library would have noticed the cloud of malevolent psychic energy swirling from that bathroom. The lights were dark around it, but that was because they were always dark. It smelled horrible because it always smelled. There was an echo of desperate sobs because someone was always sobbing in there. This bathroom was where grad students went to wish they were dead.

 

Yuutarou paused to take a deep breath, then shouldered the door open. He had spent enough time as the subject of Oikawa’s psychic practice that he could recognize his magic anywhere. Even when it was dark and distorted like this.

 

Iwaizumi was standing outside of the farthest stall, watching Yuutarou carefully, Oikawa’s binder and bag folded over one arm. Yuutarou took another deep breath, then nodded, and Iwaizumi opened the stall door.

 

Oikawa did not make a pretty sight, huddled on the bathroom floor. He was laying on his side, half-facing the door with his cheek smushed against the tile and his hair a mess. His shirt was rumpled, the buttons done up in the wrong order and just enough to cover him. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, and they did not quite manage to focus on Yuutarou as he crouched beside him.

 

“Oikawa-san,” Yuutarou said quietly. He reached out to lay his hand across Oikawa’s neck, feeling the too-quick thrum of his pulse. He could feel Oikawa’s mind reaching for him, trying to catch at the edges of the net Yuutarou offered him. Yuutarou took a deep breath, making it as loud as he could, and began stroking his thumb along the tendon of Oikawa’s neck. This time, when Oikawa reached for him, Yuutarou caught him.

 

They started, as they always did, with Yuutarou’s eighteenth birthday party. The table in Yuutarou’s favorite restaurant was set with food and gifts, but none of the guests or waitstaff were there. It was just Oikawa and Yuutarou in the deserted dining room.

 

Oikawa looked more ragged than usual, his mental perception of himself fraying at the edges like a movie Yuutarou had seen once of a ghost. He took a deep breath and looked around.

 

“Can you show me?” Yuutarou asked. Oikawa didn’t respond. “Okay,” Yuutarou said softly. “Then I’ll show you.”

 

He picked the next location at random, not really thinking about it. It was a park near where Yuutarou had grown up, one with a massive tree at its center. They wandered along the paths in silence, and the farther they went the more real Oikawa looked. He drank in every detail that Yuutarou’s memory had to offer.

 

As they neared the tree, Oikawa stopped, looking up at it.

 

“Your medallion,” Oikawa said softly, a thousand images of the glass talisman Yuutarou wore flashing between them. “It came from here.”

 

“Did it?” Yuutarou asked, looking up at the tree. “I guess that makes sense. The tree is sacred to earth magi, and I spent a lot of time here in middle and high school.” Oikawa frowned, tugging at the edge of the memory, but whatever he was looking for wasn’t there. He sighed and turned to face Yuutarou.

 

“You’re going to laugh at me,” he said. Yuutarou resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“When have I ever laughed at something this serious?” he asked.

 

“It’s not, though,” he said.

 

“Oikawa-san, you’re having a panic attack on a bathroom floor.”

 

“Fine.” With that, the image changed, leaving the memory that Yuutarou shared and entering one that Oikawa projected. It felt every bit as real, every bit as familiar. Yuutarou wondered if that was due to the link between them, or if it was evidence of Oikawa’s hard-won skill.

 

They were in the library, one floor up in the magical psychology section. Oikawa walked up to the help desk, and Yuutarou stood some feet behind him while the Oikawa standing next to him explained.

 

“I talked to my professor about the block in your mind,” he said. “She recommended some books to me, but I was having trouble finding one.” The girl working the help desk smiled up at Oikawa - not the sweet, worshipful smiles of his fans, but the soft, adoring ones that only people who knew Oikawa horribly well gave him. She listened to his question about the missing book and typed something into her computer. Then with a smile she directed him to the shelf where it belonged and told him to come back if he had any more trouble. He thanked her and walked off, Yuutarou and the other Oikawa following. They rounded a corner, only to stop short at the sight of the two people already occupying that aisle.

 

Yahaba had a smirk on his face, one that he only ever wore when he was about to make his way into someone’s pants. He was draped salaciously across Ushijima, who was shaking his head.

 

“I am flattered,” Ushijima said, carefully peeling himself away from Yahaba, “but I am afraid I will have to decline.”

 

“Aw, why?” asked Yahaba. “Am I not your type?” Ushijima barely spared Yahaba a glance.

 

“No,” he said seriously. “You are not.” He turned away, only to catch sight of Oikawa. Yuutarou could see the shock in his eyes, and the tiny edge of fear, but then panic began to cloud the memory, tainting it a sickly yellow and blurring the edges. The Oikawa in the memory turned and ran as fast as he could, down the stairs and straight into Iwaizumi, who only barely caught him. He scrabbled at Iwaizumi for a moment, then jerked away to claw into the bathroom. Oikawa let the memory fade, until they were standing in the restaurant on Yuutarou’s eighteenth birthday once more. They were silent for a long moment before Oikawa spoke again.

 

“I told you it was stupid,” he whispered. Yuutarou shook his head, leaning against the edge of a table.

 

“I’ve known you for years, Oikawa-san. I’ve been through every awkward bit of your life since we met, and most of the ones before then too. Nothing stupid has ever sent you into an attack like that.” Oikawa snorted, looking away, but Yuutarou could see that he was mulling it all over. “Can you tell me what about that set you off?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“Yahaba’s not his type,” Oikawa said quietly.

 

“So?”

 

“ _So_ , who does Yahaba remind you of?” Oikawa asked. He folded his arms tight across his abdomen, as though anything less would let him fly apart. “If Yahaba’s not his type, then neither am I.”

 

“I don’t think it works like that,” Yuutarou said. “Not with Ushijima-san, anyway.”

 

“How would you know?” Oikawa sniffed, and it was the only time that question hadn’t hurt. “You wouldn’t recognize romance if it punched you in the nose.”

 

“You know exactly how,” Yuutarou said.

 

“If he wanted-”

 

“If he wanted something he thought he couldn’t have, he would leave it alone,” Yuutarou interrupted. “If he thought you weren’t interested, or that there was something else barring his way, he wouldn’t push it. Trust me on this one, okay? This one time, I have an insight into all the romantic stuff that you don’t.”

 

“Care to share with your beloved senpai?” Oikawa asked. Yuutarou grinned.

 

“Nope,” he said. “Now please scrape yourself together. This floor is filthy.” With that, the memory faded and solidity returned to Yuutarou. Oikawa kept his mind latched on Yuutarou’s, but he did sit up, running a hand through his hair. With shaking hands, he did up the buttons of his shirt.

 

“You okay?” asked Iwaizumi from the door. Oikawa nodded. Slowly, he eased himself away from Yuutarou and back into his own head. It left Yuutarou slightly shaky and out of breath, but he waved away Iwaizumi’s worried look.

 

“Iwa-chan, can we go home now?” he asked in a small, almost childish voice.

 

“Yeah,” said Iwaizumi. “Do you want to stop at the store, or are we ordering in tonight?”

 

“Takeout,” Oikawa answered. Yuutarou stood and offered Oikawa a hand up. On his feet, Oikawa gave his hand an absent squeeze, then shuffled over to drape himself across Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Carry me?”

 

“Fuck off,” Iwaizumi said, even as he wrapped an arm around Oikawa’s waist. “You good, Kindaichi?”

 

“Yeah,” said Yuutarou, waving them off. “Enjoy your takeout.” Oikawa grinned lazily at him as he and Iwaizumi left. Yuutarou sighed and took stock of himself, both in the mirror and in his mind. When he figured he was as put-together as he could be just then, he turned and walked out of the bathroom.

 

Ushijima was waiting for him, more emotion on his face than Yuutarou had ever seen.

 

“Is he alright?” Ushijima asked. Yuutarou blinked, scrabbling at his thoughts.

 

“He’s fine,” he said at last. “That wasn’t the worst panic attack I’ve worked him through by far.” Ushijima’s eyes widened.

 

“He had a panic attack?” Ushijima breathed. Yuutarou nodded, brow furrowing.

 

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” Ushijima shook his head.

 

“I was… unaware,” he said slowly. “You said he was fine now, though, correct?”

 

“Yeah,” Yuutarou said. Then he hesitated.

 

“If there is something you wish to tell me, please feel free,” said Ushijima. “I would like to help in any way that I can.” Yuutarou blinked, then laughed.

 

“I’m just trying to decide if I can tell you, ethically,” he said. “There are confidentiality clauses and all that to worry about.” Ushijima nodded, looking away.

 

“I understand,” he said, and if Yuutarou didn’t know better, he’d say that Ushijima sounded petulant.

 

“Although,” he said slowly, “it wouldn’t be too much to say that you should probably talk to him yourself. Maybe over coffee or something. If you’re interested.” It was adorable, really, the way Ushijima’s face lit up at the prospect.

 

“Do you believe that would be a good idea?” he asked. Yuutarou couldn’t help but grin.

 

“You’d have to keep him from running away first,” he said, “but yeah. I think it’d be a great idea. Even better if you get Kageyama to come along too.”

 

Ushijima thanked him with a bow and left, looking lighter and happier somehow, though he still had that intimidating blankness to his face. Yuutarou found himself chuckling as he walked away.

 

-

 

Kuroo Tetsurou was much like his older sister in that he was wickedly intelligent and entirely aware of just how attractive he was. He was unlike his sister in that he preferred to use both of these gifts as a toy on the best of days and a weapon on the worst.

 

He was an endless headache, and he decided straight away that he was Akira’s headache to deal with.

 

With Kuroo came a collection of other, smaller headaches, and Kenma, who was more a numbness than a pain. Akira sat between Kenma and Kageyama in the dorm lounge, watching as everyone else interacted around them. Kuroo was draped lazily across Bokuto’s lap, grinning as he shot barb after verbal barb at Saeko’s younger brother and Lev, the lanky shapeshifter who served as Kenma’s psychic partner and Kuroo’s plaything. They shouted at him, hands clenched by their sides, until all of a sudden their face went slack and they crumpled onto the floor, sitting with their long legs sprawled in front of them. After a moment, they shook their head and glared at Kenma.

 

“Not fair, Kenma-san!” they whined. Kiti looked ready to scold Kenma, but Lev’s older sister’s laughter cut her off. She was the girl who had shown Akira around on his first day, and the way her eyes crinkled and she tossed her mane of silvery hair as she laughed had everyone in the room stopping and watching her.

 

“Kozume-kun, go easy on them,” she giggled. Kenma blinked at her, largely unaffected, and she grinned.

 

“Well, if we’re all calmed down now,” Kiti sniffed, trying for serious even as the tips of her ears turned bright red.

 

“If we must be,” Kuroo said, grinning up at her. She glared and though he didn’t shrink away from it, he did wrap his arms a little tighter around Bokuto. He turned his sharp gaze on Akira. “So, you’re the fresh meat Bo was telling me about then? Cute little country boy pulled in on a benchmark scholarship, and now he thinks he can play with the big kids?” Akira could feel him probing, a similar feeling to when Kageyama had done it, but these fingers were stronger, and colder. Akira blinked, keeping his mind carefully blank.

 

“Is your hair that bad naturally, or do you work at it?” Akira asked. Kuroo reeled back, his face the picture of shock while Bokuto howled with delight behind him.

 

“Oh, man, I like this kid,” laughed Tanaka, leaning on his sister. “Where’d you even find him?”

 

“Where I find all the new kids,” Saeko droned. “On a memo from the headmistress.” She planted a hand on Tanaka’s arm and held it there as it grew red and hot. Tanaka raised an eyebrow at her, and the hand grew hotter until he yelped, jerking away.

 

“You singed my favorite shirt!” he whined. It devolved into a new fight, with Kuroo, Bokuto, and Lev egging on one side or the other while Kiti pretended not to do the same. Akira wrapped his arms a little tighter around himself.

 

He wasn’t sure what caught her attention, but the next thing he knew Alisa was sliding into the chair across from him with a gentle smile.

 

“They’re not normally this bad,” she said quietly. Kenma snorted. “Okay,” she amended, “they’re not always this bad. And once you get to know them, they’re pretty fun. But if you two aren’t comfortable working with Kuroo-kun or Kozume-kun, the school can find another pair for you.”

 

“Why do you want to do this, anyway?” Kenma’s voice was like a knife in the back of Akira’s skull, holding him perfectly in place. He glanced to his side, meeting endless golden eyes.

 

“Because I have to,” he whispered. Kenma watched him for a moment, then his eyes widened, just slightly. The knife didn’t move, but Akira didn’t feel it anymore. Kenma’s mind was quicker, subtler, and it stopped just at the borders of Akira’s. He didn’t enter, only looked, and somehow Akira felt that was much, much more terrifying. Kenma frowned, and withdrew.

 

“You have a choice,” he said softly.

 

“You know I don’t,” Akira returned. Kenma blinked at him and the knife slipped away.

 

“Well, at very least, you have a choice about this,” Alisa said. “I promise you that everyone in this room is a good person, but we can be intimidating, to say the least. There are other, more reserved psychic pairs in the school.

 

“That said, I do not believe you will find a better match for yourselves. Kageyama-kun, you can attest to that, I think.” She looked at Kageyama, who ducked his head slightly and nodded. Akira got the feeling there was more to that exchange than he knew. He also got the feeling it wouldn’t be that way for long.

 

He looked around the room, at the people in it. Refined Kiti and sweet Alisa and savage Saeko. Bokuto and Kuroo, laughing loudly and clinging to one another like they were two parts of one whole. Tanaka, hovering in their orbit and Lev, torn between them and Kenma. Kenma, sitting docile like a black hole, drawing everything in the room to him. And Kageyama, no longer a stormcloud, almost _relaxed_ in their company. He thought of loud proclamations and fingers twining through his and a field full of dahlias. He would never move on if he let himself grow quiet and still. Maybe this chaotic little family would be just the thing he needed.

 

Maybe they would become the new place where he belonged. He found himself smiling, actually smiling, for the first time since the morning of the benchmark exam. Alisa’s eyes sparkled and she nodded.

 

“I’ll file the inquiry with the headmistress, as soon as you sign it,” she said. Akira nodded and shuffled through the papers in front of him. He paused with his pen just above the last signature line, and glanced at Kageyama.

 

“Last chance to back out,” he said. Kageyama looked at him, startled. Then his face smoothed - not quite a smile, they weren’t close enough for that yet, but something similar.

 

“Go ahead,” he said.

 

Akira signed.

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That bit about the bathroom is probably my favorite thing I've written in this fic so far.


	13. Chapter 13

The approval for Yuutarou and Kunimi’s proposal came in almost as soon as they had sent it. Ito-sensei was more enthusiastic about the idea than either of them, approving a small field on the edge of campus for their small-scale tests and offering any assistance they needed. Kunimi was considerably less enthused.

 

“We’ll need a control run, so we should only spell half of the field,” Yuutarou said, looking the area over. Kunimi nodded woodenly, staring at the stretch of grass. “Everything okay?” asked Yuutarou.

 

“Fine,” Kunimi said through gritted teeth. Yuutarou watched him for a moment, wondering if he should call him on it, but then Kunimi was turning away, digging in his bag. He pulled out the notebook where they had sketched out the foundations of the spell and started flipping through it. Yuutarou noticed how his hands were shaking, but he didn’t comment. He just pulled out his phone and started taking pictures of the field, pre-experiment. He stepped forward to let Kunimi have a bit of privacy, and sure enough, when he turned back there was almost no trace of worry on Kunimi’s face. He handed Yuutarou the notebook and pulled a can of spray paint out of his bag.

 

Yuutarou watched him mark off half of their field with a long line of blue paint, then shake the can. In red, he divided each side into quadrants, marking each one with a different colored box at its top. He took a deep breath, his shoulders tensing and relaxing, then turned back to face Yuutarou with a grim set to his jaw.

 

“Okay,” he said softly. “We’ll start with the top left box for today.” Yuutarou nodded and took one last picture of the divided field. Then he stepped up next to Kunimi and considered the box.

 

The magic would have to start with him. Plants were friendly, willing to accept most people, but fire was their natural enemy. The grass here wouldn’t accept Kunimi if he tried to magick it on his own. He closed his eyes and reached for the curl of new life waiting underneath the hard winter soil. He fed it magic, coaxing it into growth until fresh young tendrils poked up through the soil. One hand pressed against the glass-encased leaf over his shirt, he closed his eyes and began to hum under his breath, weaving a strand of durability into a circle in the grass. He whispered to it, telling it to grow thick rather than tall, to shore itself up and protect itself. He swayed with the ebb and flow of his magic, losing himself in it and the springtime melody of the field’s current.

 

He was so deep in it that he had to bite back a yelp, clutching at his control when he felt someone else’s magic bump up against his own. Kunimi worked in much the same way as Kageyama, stabbing his magic through Yuutarou’s like a needle pulling embroidery thread. He wove through Yuutarou’s circle, stretching across it in a criss-cross pattern so quickly that Yuutarou almost couldn’t see it. Together they closed a net, a shield born of the grass and thrumming within it.

 

There was a moment, between the closing of the shield and the withdrawing from one another, when Yuutarou’s breath caught in his chest. He had more experience than most combining his magic with other peoples’, but it rarely felt so intimate. Yuutarou could see the core of Kunimi’s magic, the same way he had always seen Oikawa’s. It was like a sun burning within Kunimi’s chest, infinitely huge and unknowable and yet warm and familiar as Yuutarou’s own heartbeat. He was struck by the thought that he had seen this very sun before, but just as soon as he registered the feeling it was gone, and with it his connection to Kunimi. They stood side-by-side, blushing and panting, both staring down at the grass.

 

It didn’t look any different, but Yuutarou could feel the spell-web stretched out in front of them. He nodded, trying to catch his breath and slow his heartbeat.

 

“I guess all that’s left is to see if it worked,” he said. Kunimi nodded, still staring downward.

 

“I need you to go stand against that wall,” he said without looking up at Yuutarou. “Next to to door is preferable. And if it starts to look like it might go wrong, I need you to get inside. Don’t try to help me, you’ll only make it worse.” The words were harsh and the tone harsher, but Yuutarou heard the fear that was trying to hide under it. He nodded, grabbing his bag and marching across the field to stand at the back door to the physics building. He watched Kunimi tuck his hair behind his ear and take a deep breath.

 

It started with a glow at the tips of his fingers. Then two perfect squares of fire rose from the ground, exactly within the bounds of the marks Kunimi had made. Yuutarou counted five of his own heartbeats, and then the fire died, and the glow faded, and Kunimi looked around. Yuutarou wasn’t sure whether to be underwhelmed at the lack of theatrics or impressed at the sheer control Kunimi had just exhibited. He stepped forward, cautiously at first, then with more surety. He hummed thoughtfully as he joined Kunimi at the edge of the field.

 

“Well, it sort of worked,” he said. The square on the left, the one that had been left alone, was scorched and barren, black sand rather than soil and dormant grass. The square on the right was simply charred. There was still the slightest thrum of life, deep under the surface.

 

“Take a picture,” Kunimi murmured. His voice sounded off, like he was both exhausted and flooded with energy. Yuutarou glanced at him out of the side of his eye as he did what he was told.

 

“We’ll have to wait a few days, to make sure the magic didn’t seep into the rest of the test area,” he commented as he documented the differences. Kunimi nodded. “Want to go to the cafe?” Yuutarou offered. Kunimi nodded again.

 

“Sounds great,” he murmured. Yuutarou frowned.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” Kunimi said, his brow furrowing. “Why?”

 

“You just seem off,” Yuutarou said with a shrug.

 

“I’m fine,” Kunimi said.

 

“You don’t seem fine,” Yuutarou muttered.

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Kunimi snapped.

 

“If you say so,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi rolled his eyes, but didn’t answer. He turned and followed Yuutarou like a child sticking close to their mother. Yuutarou tried not to worry too much. If there was something wrong, the cafe would be the best place to find out.

 

-

 

“What the _hell_ did you do to Kunimi-chan?” Oikawa’s exclamation greeted them, along with a picture frame falling off the wall as Kageyama stared at them.

 

“Told you you didn’t seem fine,” Yuutarou muttered. Kunimi shot him a glare as he slumped into his usual seat in the corner.

 

“It was just a complex spell,” he said, waving a hand like he was swatting at a fly. “No big deal.” Kageyama was staring at him, and Yuutarou was very sure he didn’t want to know what was being said in their silent conversation. He dropped his bag in his usual chair and wandered over to the counter, leaning against it.

 

“So, how’d your big experiment go?” Oikawa asked lightly.

 

“You know full well how it went,” Yuutarou muttered.

 

“Yeah, but I want to hear it from you,” Oikawa said.

 

“Eh.” Oikawa chuckled and set a cup in front of Yuutarou.

 

“Here,” he said, nudging it forward. “I put a little extra energy in here. And I’ll make something to calm Kunimi-chan’s nerves, but you should probably make him talk about it too.”

 

“None of my business,” Yuutarou commented, even as he accepted the drink. It was sweet and it warmed Yuutarou to his fingertips. He took Kunimi’s drink when it was finished and wandered back over to the corner where Kunimi was already typing up their observations. He slumped into the couch, holding Kunimi’s drink out until he finished the sentence he was working on and accepted it from him.

 

For a long while, they worked in silence. Yuutarou read over Kunimi’s shoulder, nodding along and letting whatever potion Oikawa had given him work its way through his veins. By the time Kunimi finished the initial report, he felt mostly human again. Kunimi leaned against the back of the couch and downed his entire drink in one go, then let out a shuddering sigh. He closed his eyes, face pointed to the ceiling, and for a moment simply breathed. Then he peeled his eyes open and tilted his head to regard Yuutarou.

 

“You have a talisman, don’t you?” he asked. Yuutarou blinked, surprised, then fished the glass pendant out of his shirt.

 

“Can’t remember where I got it,” he said before Kunimi could ask. “Oikawa-san says it comes from the sacred tree near where I grew up, but I don’t remember the day I got it. Just that I didn’t have it as a little kid, and then in middle school I did.” Kunimi’s face looked tight and he let out a derisive laugh.

 

“I’ve never needed anything like that,” he said. “When I was a kid I was so powerful that I stuffed it down and only let it out at night, maybe two or three times a week because I was afraid of it. And then my first year of middle school, we had these benchmark exams, and they had a seraph there who pretty much forced me to use the full extent of my power. I damn near killed myself, him, and everyone around me, and then they transfered me to Aoba Jousai.” Images flickered through Yuutarou’s mind, of light and heat and magic and someone he loved standing in the middle of it all. Pain stabbed through his skull and he dropped his head into his hands.

 

He could hear someone shouting, someone answering in a quiet voice that grew louder and more panicked, and then there was nothing but the fire. He stood on the edge, pressed up against a magical warding that was keeping him safe and destroying him all at once. There was laughter and a warm hand pressed against his back. There were tender smiles and soft eyes and someone’s body curled into his on the floor of his childhood bedroom. There was the tree, and a voice, the sweetest voice in the world, telling him about it, pressing him forward into a realm of magic that he had never known. There was fire, and someone shouting, fire and Yuutarou shouting, fire and terror and fire and Kunimi and fire and and fire and-

 

Nothing.

 

Fog.

 

Light.

 

Yuutarou was standing alone in a restaurant decorated for his eighteenth birthday party. He looked around in confusion, eyes catching on Oikawa, though he didn’t seem quite there.

 

“Oikawa-san?” he asked. Oikawa flickered, more solid, then almost gone, then there entirely. He gave Yuutarou an apologetic smile.

 

“Sorry, Kindaichi,” he said. “But remember that psychic block in your mind?” Yuutarou nodded. “Well, you brushed up against it again. Or, more like you tried to swan-dive right into the middle of it. I brought you here so that we could sort out what’s going on, but it might take a minute, okay?”

 

“Oikawa-san, what’s going on?” Yuutarou asked. Oikawa made a face.

 

“I think Kunimi might be about to kill Tobio-chan,” he said. “Are you okay if I leave you here while I try to pull them apart?” Yuutarou looked around.

 

“Do I have a choice?” he asked. Oikawa’s eyes grew soft, and expression that Yuutarou hated.

 

“You always have a choice with me,” he murmured. Yuutarou rolled his eyes.

 

“Go save your boyfriend,” he said. Oikawa grinned, and then flickered from view. Yuutarou sighed and flopped down in a chair. There was nothing more to do than wait it out.

 

-

 

Akira learned quickly that he was not going to get any sleep at all if he didn’t take every opportunity for it. As soon as the new term began and he started his new intensive workload, he picked up a habit of napping between classes, during meals, and any stretch of time when someone was not paying close enough attention. He spent one night a week in Tanaka’s single dorm, passed out on the floor from the moment his head touched the pillow until Tanaka shook him awake ten minutes before class the next morning.

 

It wasn’t much, but he was getting by.

 

The worst part, however, was the prying. Apparently the first step in establishing a psychic partnership was making sure the non-psychic member was capable of protecting themself from the psychic one, and that meant practicing keeping people out. And in order to practice that, someone needed to be trying to get in.

 

“What’s with the flower?” Kuroo asked lazily. Akira grit his teeth, trying to block Kuroo out, but he was knocking down Akira’s walls as fast as he could put them up. “Kinda weird looking. Pretty, but weird. Not the kind of thing I’d figure you would fixate on though.” Akira blinked. He felt suddenly loose, like he could simply melt into the floor. With a breath, he let the jittery, razor-sharp image of the field of dahlias fade from his mind, along with every other thought.

 

“Good,” said Kiti. “Tetsu, what do you see?”

 

“Nothing,” Kuroo yawned. He pulled away from Akira, much more smoothly than Kageyama had. “Kid’s not thinking of anything at all.”

 

“Well, it’s a start,” said Saeko. “Kunimi-kun, focus on me.” Akira managed to look at her, but couldn’t do much else. She chuckled, waving her hand in front of his face. Fire was flickering around her fingertips, and Akira’s mind caught on it enough to drag himself back to the present. “Not a bad little trick there, Kunimi-kun, but you gotta make sure you can still function after.”

 

“Well, how do you do it?” Akira snapped. Saeko only smiled at him.

 

“I don’t anymore,” she said. “Kiti’s the only one with the balls to go poking around in my head. Everyone else’s too scared.”

 

“Well how did you scare them off?” Kuroo shuddered, drawing Akira’s attention.

 

“It’s not pretty,” he said. “I like Bo’s method way better.”

 

“You like everything about me way better,” Bokuto mumbled from where he was sprawled on the floor, Kuroo’s feet resting on his stomach. Akira hadn’t known he was awake.

 

“Tanaka-san learned to block people out by turning their psychic energy in on themselves,” Takeda-sensei said. “It’s not a technique I would recommend, as she is the only person I have met who can do it without hurting herself. Bokuto-kun fills his mind with white noise to drown out anything important that a psychic might find. And Haiba-kun leads people down rabbit holes.”

 

“Yeah they do,” Kuroo muttered.

 

“What do you mean by that?” Akira asked. Kuroo hummed, holding his hands out in front of him.

 

“A normal person’s head is pretty straightforward,” he said, waving his hands back and forth. “They’re like a city street, a couple of turns and some intersections, but pretty easy to follow. Lev’s mind is more like a hedgemaze.” Kuroo’s hands started looping and swirling through the air. “They like to find a tangent, totally useless and banal, and follow it with as much alacrity as they can muster. Usually people will get so caught up in it that they don’t notice Lev’s actual thoughts, sitting nice and quiet on the side. It’s fuckin’ weird.”

 

“The point is,” Takeda-sensei said, glaring at Kuroo, “everyone does this differently. If silence is a technique that works for you, then we can develop it. Just so long as you can learn not to lose yourself in it. That happened a lot with Haiba-kun in the beginning.”

 

“Fine,” Akira sighed. He wiped a hand across his face, half-surprised not to find it drenched with sweat. “Let’s try again.”

 

It was always subtle when it started. Kuroo was good and making himself seem like a curious by-stander, peeking through a shop window to see if there was anything interesting inside. He was also good at finding the one window Akira didn’t want him to see.

 

This time, it was Kindaichi’s living room, an old horror movie on the tv and a tub of half-melted ice cream in Akira’s lap. Kindaichi had fallen asleep at some point, his cheek smushed against Akira’s shoulder. His hair was soft, brushing against Akira’s collarbone and making him feel-

 

Nothing. He felt nothing, he thought nothing, he was nothing. Kuroo grinned at him, and Akira had just enough left to meet the smile with the barest twitch of his own lips. He felt Kuroo pull away, and then began looking around for the pieces of himself to pick up again. He didn’t quite manage it.

 

“Better,” Takeda-sensei said once Saeko had managed to pull Akira back. “Congratulations, Kunimi-kun. We may have found a technique that will work for you.” He handed Akira a glass of water, which he downed in one go.

 

“So when do I start working with Kageyama?” he asked, setting the glass on the table. “I’d like to be able to sleep at night sometimes.”

 

“Well, now that we’ve found a blocking technique that we can hone, it will all depend on how well Kageyama-kun does with his own studies,” Takeda-sensei said. “Which means it could either be very soon or it could be sometime next year. That will all depend on him.” As Takeda-sensei spoke, the walls began to shake. He smiled a bit sheepishly at Akira, reaching out to catch a book as it fell off the shelf.

 

“Joy,” Akira muttered.

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually pretty proud of this chapter, especially the Kunimi portion. Stay tuned, folks, this is about to get fun.


	14. Chapter 14

Time didn’t pass in the restaurant in Yuutarou’s mind. The sun always streamed through the windows like mid-afternoon on a summer’s day. The clock on the wall didn’t tick, its hands frozen at 3:27. There was no one on the street outside the window, no one in the kitchen behind the counter, no one at the tables. Just Yuutarou and a pile of empty gift boxes and food that couldn’t be touched or smelt, only seen. He sighed, sitting in one of the chairs and looking at nothing.

 

There was no way to tell how long Oikawa had left him there. It could have been a few seconds, it could have been the rest of Yuutarou’s life. That was the risk that came with psychics: all the trust in the world didn’t take away the chance of something going completely, horribly wrong. He trusted Oikawa, more than he probably should have. But Yuutarou also knew, probably better than anyone, that Oikawa was not perfect. He made mistakes. Yuutarou could only hope that he wouldn’t be one of them.

 

His sister had hated psychics when they were kids. She had told him stories of the way they played around in people’s minds, making them do horrible things, or else making them nothing at all. Their power terrified her, to the point that she had paid thousands of yen to have a charm made to shield her from any that she would meet on the street.

 

The day he had told her about his partnership with Oikawa, she had turned around and left without a word. Yuutarou had spoken to her a handful of times since then, each conversation stilted and brought to its abrupt end when she found out Oikawa was still his friend. He wondered what he would think of this situation, and couldn’t help but smirk. Dropped into a psychic prison to avoid the damage from a psychic land mine. He’d have to tell her about it, just to see her horror.

 

If Oikawa ever came and got him, that was. Idly, he wondered if that would ever happen.

 

He had no way of telling if any time had passed at all when the view through the windows began to change. The empty, unmoving street was flickering, twisting and forking, almost like-

 

Like fire. There was fire outside the windows, a burning field within the circle of a barrier ward. Yuutarou could smell it, could feel the thrum of the magic that fed it, tasting of lightning and berries. And then it was gone, and had never been there at all. Yuutarou had no idea why he was staring at the empty street outside the restaurant on his eighteenth birthday, or why his heart ached so much. He knew that wherever it was, tears were running down his face, though he couldn’t feel them. He blinked and turned away from the window.

 

There was no way to tell how long Oikawa had left him there, but when he flickered into view near the counter, his face was grim. He looked at Kindaichi and a smile flickered across his face, gone before it had time to settle.

 

“Kindaichi-kun,” he murmured. “What do you remember?”

 

Yuutarou had always been in this restaurant.

 

He shook his head. That wasn’t right, that was a side-effect. He’d read about that. In a book. In a class he’d taken with Oikawa, because Oikawa had needed a partner to help him control his psychic magic.

 

“How long have I been here?” he asked, his tongue heavy like it couldn’t remember how to form words.

 

“About forty minutes,” Oikawa answered. “Do you remember why?”

 

Yuutarou had been in this restaurant for forty minutes. Oikawa had never spent more than half an hour with him before, too worried about what it would do to Yuutarou’s perception of the real world. Which meant that Oikawa had been desperate, that he’d needed to protect him.

 

“There is a block in my mind,” Yuutarou murmured. Oikawa nodded.

 

“That’s right. Do you remember what you were doing before you triggered the block?”

 

Yuutarou had come to this restaurant with Oikawa. It was Oikawa’s place in Yuutarou’s mind. He had stood right there, flickering from view, and then had given Yuutarou a sad smile. He had offered a choice.

 

“Did you save your boyfriend?” Yuutarou asked, and Oikawa smiled, slumping with relief.

 

“For the most part,” he answered. “Kunimi-chan’s still pissed at him, but I don’t think he’ll actually maim him anytime soon.”

 

“Why was Kunimi so mad, anyway?” Yuutarou asked. Oikawa bit his lip, looking past Yuutarou to the street outside the window.

 

“I don’t know if I can tell you that,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

 

“Of course it is,” Yuutarou groaned. Oikawa smiled.

 

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I mean that it’s all tied up in the block. Kunimi-chan and Tobio-chan and a whole bunch of memories I can’t get to without risking your safety. But I think I’ve figured out what’s going on, so when you’re okay to go, we’ll talk to my professor about it. I don’t know if we can take it away, but it’s worth a shot.”

 

“Why is Kunimi part of this?” Yuutarou asked. “All of my memories of him are fine.”

 

“I can’t, Kindaichi,” he said. “Not yet.” Yuutarou nodded, but the movement felt wrong, only half-done. Oikawa grimaced. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here while we still can.”

 

Yuutarou was both sitting up and lying down, in a chair in the restaurant and on a couch that was too short for him. His neck hurt and he was cold. His body felt heavy, his limbs made of stone. The restaurant was gone, replaced by the smell of coffee and the taste of magic and the sounds of the Daily Grind. He peeled open his eyes, waiting for them to remember how to focus on the ceiling and two heads of fluffy brown hair.

 

“See, I told you he’d make it,” Yahaba said. Oikawa didn’t reply. “How you feeling, Kindaichi?”

 

“M’ff,” Yuutarou replied. He frowned and tried again, “M’ffuh.”

 

“It may take a bit,” Yahaba said softly. “Here, squeeze my hand.” Yuutarou’s fingers were foreign entities, but he managed to close them around Yahaba’s. A current flooded from that point of contact, a small bit of Yahaba’s magic flowing into Yuutarou. He welcomed it, letting it find his own magic and coax it into bloom. Yuutarou’s limbs started to feel lighter, more like limbs than blocks of dead wood. He blinked once or twice, then squeezed Yahaba’s hand. The current stopped flowing, leaving what Yahaba had already given but not offering more. Yuutarou took a deep breath through his nose.

 

“Are Kunimi and Kageyama okay?” he asked. His voice was gravely and his tongue felt clumsy in his mouth, but he got it out.

 

“They’re… probably fine,” Yahaba said. “I sent them both home, and called Iwaizumi-san to make sure they get there in one piece. You’re the one we were worried about.” Yuutarou nodded, dragging his eyes over to Oikawa.

 

“’S not your fault,” he mumbled. Oikawa’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.

 

“I know that,” he said, too quietly. Yuutarou narrowed his eyes, and a bit of humor flickered through the misery on Oikawa’s face. “I mean it. I’m worried, not guilty.”

 

“’Kay,” Yuutarou said. He let his eyes slip closed. “Do me a favor an’ don’t do that again, ‘kay?” Oikawa chuckled.

 

“If you say so,” he said. There were fingers running through Yuutarou’s hair and he whined, trying to make it clear that he did not appreciate his hairstyle being mussed. It earned him another chuckle and a ruffle of his hair. “Do you think you’re okay to walk now, or do you want a nap?”

 

Yuutarou didn’t answer, too busy dozing off in the comfort around him. He was pretty sure he heard Oikawa say something else, and felt the fingers trail away from his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

-

 

Hinata was making out with Yachi against the door to her room when Yuutarou finally shuffled home that night. She pulled away from him enough to smile at Yuutarou.

 

“See, I told you he’d be fine,” she said. Hinata tore his face away from her neck to spin around and stare up at him with those wide, intense eyes.

 

“There you are!” he yelled. “We thought you were dead!”

 

“Shouyou thought you were dead,” Yachi corrected. “We all knew you were in the cafe.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Hinata squawked. Yachi shook her head at him.

 

“I did,” she said. “Three times. You were too busy convincing yourself that Kageyama-kun had killed him and dumped his body in a dumpster.”

 

“Kageyama did not kill me and dump my body in a dumpster,” Yuutarou said.

 

“Good,” Hinata said. He pushed open the door to Yuutarou’s room and marched inside, dragging Yachi with him. They plopped on the couch while Yuutarou sighed and slumped over to his bed. “So, what _did_ happen?” Hinata asked. Yuutarou had to think for a moment.

 

“Kunimi and I did our first small-scale test, for our elemental theory class,” he said at last.

 

“Oh, how did that go?” asked Yachi. The door opened before Yuutarou could answer and Tsukishima shuffled in, glancing around at everyone with a raised eyebrow.

 

“See, I told you he wasn’t dead,” he said at last as he dropped his bag by his desk and flopped onto the couch, dropping his head in Hinata’s lap.

 

“Shut up,” Hinata muttered, even as he carded his fingers through Tsukishima’s hair. “Anyway, how’d the experiment go?”

 

“Not awful,” Yuutarou answered. “It worked a little bit.”

 

“That doesn’t explain like you look like death,” Tsukishima commented, not pulling his face away from Hinata’s thigh. Yuutarou sighed.

 

“After, we went to the cafe to write up our report, and I guess I ran into that block again. Oikawa-san had to put me in a protective space while he calmed it down, and apparently save Kageyama from Kunimi in the process.”

 

“Kunimi Akira?” asked Yachi. “Why would Oikawa-san have to save Kageyama-kun from him? They’re friends.”

 

“Dunno,” Yuutarou said. “Oikawa wouldn’t tell me. Something about Kunimi being tangled up in the block.”

 

“Strange,” Yachi said slowly.

 

“What is it, Hitoka?” asked Hinata. Yachi looked at Yuutarou, then shook her head.

 

“If Oikawa-san doesn’t think it’s safe, then I probably shouldn’t say anything,” she said. “But I will tell you that you should stay home from your art lab tomorrow morning. Oikawa-san will want to see his professor first thing after his morning shift, and if you try it right after that class it will not end well.”

 

“Thanks,” Yuutarou mumbled. Yachi smiled at him, then poked Hinata in the side.

 

“Come on,” she said. “We’re supposed to be studying. Go get your notes.” Hinata whined, and she glared at him until he started extracting himself from the couch. Tsukishima whined, and Yachi glared harder.

 

“I can’t win in this situation,” Hinata muttered.

 

“You brought it upon yourself,” Yachi said primly. “Notes, now.”

 

Yuutarou listened to the three of them bicker fondly, letting his eyes close again. He had slept for three hours at the cafe, but he was still exhausted. He was fairly certain Yahaba had slipped some sort of sleeping draught into his drink, because as soon as he let his head rest against the wall he felt himself drifting away. He barely had the fortitude to wriggle far enough that his head was on the pillow instead before he was asleep.

 

-

 

The problem with Kageyama was that he had a hard time separating his psychic power from his telekinesis. He had a habit of sending things flying around the room whenever he tried to read someone’s mind, or else concentrating so hard that the pressure would grind his subject’s bones together and threaten to crush them. Akira hated that it was such a familiar sensation.

 

Akira had managed over the past few weeks to all but perfect his silence method. After the second week, neither Kuroo nor Kiti could get past the void he created, and after the third, Kenma found it difficult as well. They broke upon Akira’s walls like water, kept within the areas Akira allowed them, until Kenma found some tiny crack to flow through. It had driven Akira out of his mind more than once, until Takeda-sensei had assured him that Kenma’s magic was profoundly flexible and that no one, not even Lev, was able to keep him out entirely. It hadn’t occurred to him that Kageyama could be even more powerful.

 

The first time Kageyama tried to enter Akira’s mind after they had begun their new training, everything had seemed to be going well. Akira’s walls were up, his little ocean of silence surrounding the island of his thoughts, just like it should have been. Then Kageyama frowned, and it was gone.

 

Gone. Like it had never been there at all.

 

“How did you do that?” Akira asked. Kageyama only shrugged at him, pulling out. Akira readjusted his borders, setting up the sea of silence once more. “Again,” he said, and braced himself. Kageyama entered Akira’s mind like a deer in a forest, like he was meant to be there. He passed through the silence, existing there for a long moment, and then it was gone and Kageyama was poking at Akira’s memory of the math test they’d taken earlier that day.

 

“I got number three wrong,” Kageyama muttered, his voice absolutely dripping with disappointment. Akira snorted and shoved at his shoulder.

 

“I’ll help you study for the next one,” he said. “Now, how are you doing that? Kenma can get around the walls, but you just remove them entirely. How?”

 

“What did you just say, Kunimi-kun?” asked Takeda-sensei.

 

“I said Kageyama removes the walls entirely. How do I block that?” A myriad of expressions flickered across Takeda-sensei’s face as he looked between Akira and Kageyama.

 

“What do you mean, Kageyama-kun removes the walls entirely? That’s not possible.” Akira shrugged.

 

“That’s what it feels like,” he said. “Like one minute everything’s fine, he can’t see anything, and then the next it’s like I never put up a defense at all.”

 

“Kageyama-kun, is that true?”

 

“You told me to get around the block,” Kageyama said. His brows pulled downward and his eyes flashed with doubt. “Is that wrong?”

 

Takeda-sensei sighed, ruffling his hair with one hand while he stared at the two of them. “It means,” he said slowly, “that Kageyama-kun is even more powerful than we all thought.” He paused for a moment, looking down at his desk. Then with a nod and a flick of his fingers he locked the door.

 

“Takeda-sensei?” asked Akira, looking nervously at him. “Is everything all right?”

 

“Listen carefully, boys,” Takeda-sensei said seriously. “Kageyama-kun should not have this ability. It’s all but unheard of in adults, let alone someone of your age. Kunimi-kun’s mental fortitude is not inconsiderable. To completely remove it displays a level of control which makes Kageyama-kun dangerous, to say the least. If anyone at this school finds out about it, it could have very dire consequences.”

 

“…how dire?” asked Akira slowly, glancing over at Kageyama. Takeda-sensei took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

 

“Officially, it is illegal and unethical to imprison someone due to their power potential, particularly a minor, but it happens. People go missing, accidents are arranged, and suddenly there are work camps full of incredibly powerful magi. If they’re lucky enough to make it to the camps and not the laboratories. The point is, Kageyama-kun’s life is at risk here. It is imperative we keep this to ourselves, do you understand?” He was speaking to both of them, but he looked directly at Akira when he said it.

 

“I understand,” Akira said softly.

 

“Okay then,” Takeda-sensei said, the tense line of his shoulders relaxing somewhat. “Then since we cannot work on the block exercises with you two, we should come up with a new training regimen.” He pulled out a stack of papers and set about forming a plan.

 

-

 

Kageyama had been silent for hours, ever since they had left Takeda-sensei’s office. Akira was getting used to feeling helpless, but it was still not a pleasant sensation. He bit back a sigh as he watched Kageyama stare at the wall in their room.

 

“Kageyama, come here,” he said at last, closing his book with a snap. Kageyama dragged his eyes up to him, blinking slowly. Akira simply pointed to the space on the bed in front of him and repeated his command.

 

Kageyama moved as though through water, standing from his desk chair and shuffling over to Akira’s bed. Akira waited until he was siting cross-legged, facing him, then shuffled forward until their knees touched.

 

“Give me your hands,” he said. Kageyama obeyed. “Now, follow me.”

 

He waited until Kageyama’s mind bumped up against his own, then reached out for it. He drew Kageyama inside himself, pulling him deeper before Kageyama gasped and jerked away, both physically and mentally.

 

“What are you doing?” Kageyama gasped. Akira rolled his eyes and snatched Kageyama’s hands back.

 

“Trust me,” he said, brushing his thumbs over Kageyama’s knuckles. “We both need to get some sleep, okay? Trust me.” He could see the doubt swimming in Kageyama’s eyes even as he let Akira draw him forward again. He closed his eyes and let the very last of his resistance drop, baring himself completely to Kageyama.

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is that a plot I see in the distance??????


	15. Chapter 15

Yuutarou hated skipping class, especially his art lab, but even he could admit it had been a good idea. He’d only woken up enough to silence his alarm before collapsing back into a deep sleep, and it had taken Tsukishima and Hinata arriving in the room after Hinata’s Italian class to wake him up, sometime after noon. He sat bolt-upright, hair amess and drool plastered to his cheek, staring at his roommate and roommate’s boyfriend. They froze in the doorway, staring back at him.

 

“You okay there?” Hinata asked, slowly lowering his bag to the floor. “You look kinda-” The electronic shutter tone of Tsukishima’s camera punctuated his sentence and startled Yuutarou into an illusion of consciousness.

 

“Wha’ time is it?” he slurred, wiping absently at his cheek.

 

“Quarter to one,” Tsukishima answered him. “You slept for sixteen hours.”

 

“I did?” Yuutarou looked blearily around for his phone.

 

“Oikawa-san warned us you’d be out of it,” Hinata chirped. “He also said to let him know when you woke up, so you can go see his professor.” Yuutarou found his phone at last, digging it out of the blankets and thumbing it open. He sent Oikawa a string of random characters, not really caring what it said if anything. He didn’t have to wait at all for a response.

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [Oh good, you’re up. Get dressed. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.]

 

Yuutarou took a deep breath and scrubbed at his eyes, not looking forward to what was left of the day. He felt as though someone had opened him up and cleaned out all his insides, leaving him raw and empty.

 

“Need some help?” Hinata asked, not unkindly. Yuutarou was about to agree, but the glint in Tsukishima’s eyes gave him pause.

 

“I’m good,” he said slowly. Hinata shrugged and turned to dig through his bag. He tossed a store-bought sandwich at Yuutarou, then flopped down on the couch. Yuutarou began the sluggish process of dragging himself from his bed as Tsukishima queued up a movie on his laptop, settling in next to Hinata. The opening credits and Hinata’s complaints about Tsukishima’s taste in movies served as the soundtrack for Yuutarou’s mechanical dressing.

 

He was just pulling his second sock on when Oikawa arrived, throwing open the door with all his usual drama. Yuutarou blinked up at him from where he sat on the floor legs sprawled in front of him, and he frowned.

 

“I know I’m stunning Kindaichi-kun, but really you should be able to control yourself by now.”

 

“Sorry, sometimes I forget how obnoxious you are, and it surprises me all over again,” is what Yuutarou meant to say. What he actually said was something closer to “Euff,” which earned him a huff and a fond smile.

 

“Come on,” Oikawa said, crouching down and grabbing Yuutarou’s shoes. “Put these on, so we can go see Sakano.” Yuutarou nodded, stuffing one foot into a shoe. It took him five minutes to do up the laces and climb to his feet, but he had put them on the right feet on the first try, and considering the state of his thoughts that day he figured it was deserving of at least some credit. Oikawa looped their arms together with a hum and tugged Yuutarou out of the dorm.

 

The building which housed the more cerebral affinities’ departments was lovingly called Mind-Fuck Hall, and Yuutarou had spent more time there than any elemental-affinity student had any reason. It was not a welcoming place, by any means, but it did leave Yuutarou awash in a sense of familiarity as Oikawa dragged him to the rickety old elevator behind the water fountains. He was distantly grateful for that, since his legs weren’t working quite well enough to guarantee he would make it up the stairs. Oikawa hummed under his breath as they rode up to the fifth floor, rocking on the balls of his feet. Yuutarou stared blankly at the array of buttons on the wall, startling when the elevator stopped and a dull ding announced their floor.

 

Oikawa dragged him down a cluttered hallway, over to a door that was plastered with notes and memos that had never been taken down. He knocked once, then shoved the door open.

 

“Good afternoon, Tooru,” said the tall, elegant woman behind the desk, Oikawa’s graduate adviser and mentor. “I see you brought Kindaichi-kun with you.”

 

“I told you I didn’t zombify him,” Oikawa said proudly. Sakano-sensei rolled her eyes, unsmiling.

 

“Can he speak?” she asked. Oikawa frowned.

 

“He did yesterday,” he said, looking at Yuutarou. For a moment, Yuutarou considered staring mutely back, to see how much trouble he could get Oikawa into. Oikawa blinked at him, and he sighed.

 

“I can speak,” he said, albeit a little slowly.

 

“Good,” said Sakano-sensei, sounding utterly disappointed. “So, Tooru, you say this block seems to be triggered by a specific memory, and one having to do with a specific person?”

 

“Looks like it,” Oikawa said. He flopped down in one of the chairs in front of Sakano-sensei’s desk, throwing his leg over the arm. “I didn’t realize they’d met before, which is why I didn’t pick up on the connection. Kindaichi forgot completely about the connection, and the subject didn’t realize until sometime after they’d reconnected.”

 

“And you say it’s Kageyama-kun’s block?” Oikawa made a face.

 

“Looks like it,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it, but it smells like Tobio-chan.”

 

Sakano-sensei nodded, turning to face Yuutarou. Her ice-blue eyes pinned him in place, searing through him. He felt the edges of her power brushing up against his mind before she spoke.

 

“Kindaichi-kun, I’m going to probe for the block now,” she said. “Tooru will be here to make sure nothing goes amiss, but be warned. Prolonged exposure to Tooru’s magic, and to the mindspace he has created for you two, could have lasting negative consequences, do you understand?”

 

‘Lasting negative consequences’ was a phrase Yuutarou knew all too well. It meant things like loss of motor function, slurred or ruined speech, lowered cognitive abilities. It meant things like wasting away because all the feeding tubes and breathing apparatuses could not save a mind that was adrift, far away from the body that housed it.

 

It meant things like trust and terror. Six years ago, Yuutarou had signed a form with ‘Lasting Negative Consequences’ in bold font on the top and Oikawa Tooru’s signature at the bottom. It had seemed like the most terrifying thing he could do at the time, but now, pinned by Sakano-sensei’s eyes and magic, he knew better. It had been easy, delightful, even, to put that much trust in Oikawa. It was impossible to put it in Sakano-sensei.

 

He did anyway.

 

“Go ahead,” he said, whispered really, and without a moment’s hesitation, she did.

 

She didn’t enter at first. Her energy faded away until Yuutarou couldn’t feel it anymore. He knew what she was doing, and let his mind drift. Sure enough, after a long moment of nothing, a memory of Kunimi’s face rose to the surface. There was movement, like a flicker at the corner of his vision, and then the image was changing. Kunimi looked younger, his eyes bigger and more open, his hair a little shorter. It was a live image, Kunimi brushing his hair behind his ear and smiling softly. Yuutarou knew the rest of this memory somehow. He reached out to tuck something into Kunimi’s hair. The image froze, and everything felt very hot. There was light and heat and-

 

Nothing. There was nothing more than the fading knowledge that there had been something, once. Sakano-sensei frowned, glancing at Oikawa.

 

“That’s it, right?” she asked. Oikawa sat up, his brow furrowing.

 

“Yeah, you’re right in the middle of it,” he said.

 

“Tooru,” she said slowly. Oikawa nodded.

 

“I know,” he said. “There’s nothing there.”

 

“What do you mean, there’s nothing there?” Yuutarou huffed. Sakano-sensei looked back at him, her features smoothing back into the ice and glass they had always been.

 

“The block is there, and it is certainly Kageyama-kun’s,” she said. “It is also very powerful. It is likely that you would never have triggered it at all, if it weren’t for your recent reconnection with Kunimi-kun.”

 

“The problem is that there’s nothing inside the block,” Oikawa said. “There should be a specific core memory here, and a series of others related to it, but they’re just gone. Why would Tobio-chan put a block around nothing?”

 

“Something _was_ here,” Sakano-sensei said. “It’s not that it was empty space, something was taken away. But I’ve never heard of a psychic powerful enough to entirely erase memories.” Yuutarou almost didn’t feel it. The flicker of fear was so faint, thrown at him as a panicked afterthought, and Yuutarou almost didn’t recognize that it wasn’t his own. He didn’t glance at Oikawa as he flung himself at the edges of the memory, at the light and heat. Pain stabbed through his skull, and he closed his eyes. He could feel Sakano-sensei pulling out and Oikawa drawing him away from the fire and the block. He held Yuutarou there, not really trapping him like he had before in the restaurant, but cradling him close to keep him from wandering into dangerous territory.

 

Dimly, he could hear them talking. Big, academic words, like ‘psycho-telekinetic reinterference’ and ‘paratus measures’. They talked like architects, about removing cracked foundations and shoring up those areas which would receive the most strain. Oikawa’s mind trembled against Yuutarou’s, and he did his best to calm him without drawing attention to the fact that he was doing so. Slowly, the trembling faded, and with it Yuutarou’s grasp on what was going on around him. The voices were more like muted humming of insects on a summer’s night, the chair beneath him a soft and comforting void. Yuutarou floated along that void, until Oikawa reached out and reeled him back in.

 

“How’re you feeling?” he asked with a sunny smile. Yuutarou narrowed his eyes.

 

“What did you do?” he asked. Oikawa smiled wider.

 

“Whatever are you talking about, Kindaichi?” he sang. Yuutarou leaned away from him, watching him carefully.

 

“Why are we here?” he asked. Oikawa’s smile faded somewhat, looking a little more natural.

 

“To keep you safe,” he replied. “You shouldn’t have any more problems with that block.”

 

“What was it?” Yuutarou asked. Oikawa waved a hand lazily.

 

“A prank Tobio-chan played on you, and then forgot about,” he said. “But don’t worry, your memories of that time you made out with Chibi-chan are right where they should be.”

 

“My _what_?” Yuutarou hissed. Sure enough, right there in the middle of Tsukishima’s seventeenth birthday party was the way Hinata, drunk on both cheap beer and jealousy had shoved his tongue into Yuutarou’s mouth. Yuutarou shuddered. “Thanks,” he grumbled. Oikawa beamed at him.

 

“Any time,” he said. “Now, since that’s sorted out, Iwa-chan owes me lunch and he should be getting off work soon.”

 

“Feel free to keep any of your little boyfriend’s other pranks out of my office,” Sakano-sensei droned, flicking through the papers on her desk. Oikawa saluted her as he dragged Yuutarou away. He hummed on the elevator ride down and during their trek out of Mind-Fuck Hall, smiling to himself. Yuutarou poked at the memory again.

 

“This isn’t mine,” he said quietly enough so that only Oikawa could hear.

 

“Nope,” Oikawa chirped. “I put it there to distract you from the truth,” he said. Yuutarou huffed through his nose.

 

“And what’s the truth?” he asked. Oikawa’s smile stayed firmly in place, but Yuutarou knew him well enough to feel the storm brewing in his mind.

 

“The truth is that Tobio-chan is in a lot of danger, and not just from Kunimi-chan,” he said darkly.

 

-

 

It was different this time, having Kageyama in his mind. He didn’t feel like an intruder this time, but rather a welcome guest. Akira saw it as though they were walking through the forest near his old home, and Kageyama was staring up at the trees with wide eyes. Between the trunks there were flashes of thought and memory, sometimes playing out like a tableau in a play an sometimes like nothing Akira could describe with words, like stardust and magic and hearthfire. He held Kageyama’s hand as they walked, and somewhere along the way he started talking.

 

“My mother’s an ice affinity,” he said. “She can be cruel, she can be cold, she can be soothing. It makes sense for her. Fire never made sense for me. I was always too calm, too sleepy, too lazy. Fire affinities are supposed to be hotheaded and strong. They’re supposed to be everything I’m not.”

 

They paused for a moment, staring at the little glade that housed an old recurring dream of floating in a vast lake. Kageyama squeezed Akira’s hand, and they moved on.

 

“Kindaichi’s affinity makes sense,” he said. Around them, the trees showed them pictures of Kindaichi squatting in a patch of grass, Kindaichi holding up a pot with a ragged pea plant and grinning, Kindaichi surrounded by dahlias. “He was always a nurturer. He told me once, when he was sick and I was dropping off his homework, that he wished he could turn into a tree so that his leaves could cast a big enough shadow for me to sleep under, where no one would bother me.” The images flashed faster and faster, until it was everything Akira knew about Kindaichi, spread out around them like a museum exhibit.

 

“If you two were best friends, why did you leave?” Kageyama asked quietly. The exhibit shifted, moving closer to its end. Akira smiled grimly.

 

“He’s an average mage at best,” he said. “He couldn’t really hurt anyone with his affinity. He makes things grow. He adds to the world. I only take away.”

 

The field, the fire. Kindaichi, standing against the barrier spell, shouting for Akira. The images here were black around the edges, hazy with Akira’s efforts to forget them, bright in their centers with his utter inability to.

 

“I would have hurt him, in the end,” Akira said. “That’s what all this comes down to. That’s my biggest fear, the deepest darkest part of me. I abandoned my best friend because I knew that I would kill him if I didn’t.”

 

“That’s not it,” Kageyama said. He was looking at the still image of the fire, but Akira knew he wasn’t really seeing it. “There’s something else, that you’re hiding from yourself.” Akira sighed.

 

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I can’t.”

 

“Not alone,” Kageyama agreed. “If you want, I’ll leave it be.” Akira shook his head.

 

“Go for it,” he said. “Not like I’ve got anything more to lose.” Kageyama blinked slowly, turning to look at Akira with that same terror in his eyes that had been there the first time they’d ever tried to link.

 

“You have everything to lose,” he whispered. Akira returned his gaze, not steadily, exactly, but he returned it. Uncertainty filled the space between them, and then determination in spite of it. Kageyama nodded, squeezing Akira’s hand once more.

 

It came slowly, wading through the forest of memories like it had all the time in the world. The images between the trees shifted, pulling back to those months before the benchmark exams, when everything still had the chance to be okay. Then stepping through an opening in the trees, they were standing in Akira’s old bedroom. On the floor in front of them, Akira and Kindaichi were sitting at the low table, doing homework. Kindaichi finished his and flopped onto his back on the floor, shuffling around until his head was pillowed on Akira’s thigh. He let out a content sigh, and closed his eyes. Within a few moments, Kindaichi’s breath turned slow and even. The Akira on the floor set his pencil down and looked at his friend.

 

It was strange, watching like an outsider. Akira was both on the floor and standing against the wall, watching Kindaichi and watching himself watch Kindaichi. With a steady hand, Akira reached out and stroked his fingers through Kindaichi’s hair, smiling at how soft it was.

 

“I chose it,” Akira said quietly, watching himself make the choice. “I could have acknowledged it there. I could have ruined everything right then. Instead I decided to wait, until something else ruined it for me.”

 

“You have to acknowledge it now,” Kageyama said.

 

“I can’t,” Akira whispered.

 

“It will only hurt more later. I’m going to be in every part of your head soon, and it’s only going to hurt both of us if you try to keep something hidden.” Akira closed his eyes. He could feel tears streaming down his face, though the him in his mind did not cry.

 

“I’m still a kid,” he said. “I don’t know what love is.”

 

“That’s not true and we both know it.” Akira opened his eyes and looked at his best friend, asleep on his lap, at his younger self, smiling down at him. He let himself imagine it then, letting himself feel the way he wanted. Letting his touches and his eye linger, letting the warmth in his chest grow brighter. Growing up with Kindaichi, growing together. Not yet - they were still pretty young, and Kindaichi was like a skittish colt - but someday, kissing him, being _with_ him and not just next to him. Akira let himself think about it all, let himself want it all.

 

Then he let it go.

 

Kageyama stayed next to him the entire time, holding his hand and feeling everything he felt. He didn’t offer any consolation or condemnation, he was simply there. And when the last of the scene in Akira’s old bedroom faded away, he stood next to him on the forest path and squeezed his hand.

 

“Quid pro quo,” Kageyama said softly, and before Akira had a chance to wonder where he’d learned that phrase, Kageyama was leading him forward, tugging him to the end of the forest path and into something else entirely.

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready everyone, 'cause the next chapter's a doozy :)


	16. Chapter 16

A study session was in full swing when Yuutarou got back to his dorm. He was still halfway down the hall and already he could hear Kageyama and Hinata’s loud bickering. He forced a smile onto his face as he unlocked the door.

 

The reaction was immediate. Kageyama jumped to his feet and backed against the wall, eyes wide and darting. Yuutarou stepped inside fully, dropping his bag and stepping out of his shoes. As soon as he was clear of the doorway, Kageyama tried to bolt, only to fall flat on his face when Yamaguchi grabbed him by the ankle.

 

“You still have sixteen pages to read, Kageyama,” Yamaguchi said sweetly. Yuutarou chuckled and picked his way around the group on the floor, climbing onto his bed with a sketchbook and a couple of pencils. He waited.

 

Sure enough, as soon as Yamaguchi’s attention drifted, Kageyama glanced up at Yuutarou over the edge of his book. He went back to frowning at it, bumping up against Yuutarou’s mind like he was tugging on his sleeve. Yuutarou didn’t bother with blockades that Kageyama could just tear down, opening his mind as he sketched the slope of Tsukishima’s shoulders.

 

 _What happened?_ Kageyama asked him.

 

 _Oikawa-san removed the block you put in place around my memory of Hinata trying to make out with me at Tsukishima_ _’s seventeenth birthday party,_ Yuutarou answered. Kageyama glanced at him. _I know it_ _’s fake,_ Yuutarou assured him. _I think Oikawa-san just put another block around the other one, so that I won_ _’t have any more episodes._

 

 _Did he say why that happened?_ Kageyama asked. Yuutarou tossed a couple of the words he’d heard from them, until one made Kageyama make a face. _Sorry._

 

 _Probably not your fault,_ Yuutarou said with a mental shrug. He paused for a moment, then showed Kageyama what Oikawa had said to him on their way out of Mind-Fuck Hall. Kageyama’s shoulders went stiff. _You should probably talk to Kunimi about that. He knows, right?_

 

 _He was there when I found out_ , Kageyama agreed. There was something else there, something Kageyama wasn’t sure if he was supposed to keep from Yuutarou or not. Yuutarou pursed his lips and put up a wall. Kageyama seemed to get the message, because he retreated and started actually trying to read his book. Yuutarou went back to his sketch of Tsukishima and pretended all the secrets didn’t hurt.

 

-

 

The next time Yuutarou saw Kunimi, he looked more exhausted than ever. He sat quietly in his seat during their elemental theory class, eyes glassy as Ito-sensei talked about the history of black-market mermaid scales. Yuutarou grit his teeth.

 

Whatever secret was flying around, Kunimi was at the center of it. There was something about him that no one wanted Yuutarou to know, to the extent that Kageyama had actually removed some of his memories. Yuutarou thought of the way he’d felt so drawn to Kunimi, the way he had so desperately wanted to be his friend. There was an answer there, but Yuutarou just couldn’t see it.

 

All at once, Kunimi’s eyes shifted, focusing on Yuutarou. He looked away, his hand moving across the paper in front of him. He waited until Ito-sensei had turned to face the board, then passed the page over.

 

 _Six o_ _’clock outside the dining hall_ it read. Yuutarou looked over at Kunimi, but Kunimi was staring straight ahead, taking notes in earnest now. Yuutarou stuffed the note in his pocket, determined not to show up that night.

 

-

 

Five-fifty-six found Yuutarou leaning against the door to the dining hall, scowling with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. He had been there for half an hour, telling himself to leave the entire time. He had just worked up the will to pull away from the wall and go back to his dorm when he caught sight of Kunimi coming toward him, his head low and his hair hanging in front of his face. Yuutarou felt his last chance to leave slip through his fingers, too busy staring and fighting down the urge to tuck Kunimi’s hair back behind his ear. Kunimi came to a stop in front of Yuutarou, still staring at the ground. Yuutarou stared at him, not sure what to say and desperate to say _something_. Finally, Kunimi looked up, and Yuutarou bit back a gasp at the fear etched in his eyes.

 

“Hey,” said Yuutarou, wondering why the rest of the sentence wouldn’t leave his throat. Kunimi snorted.

 

“Hey,” he replied. He tucked his hair back, only for it to fall forward once more. He left it there.

 

“You okay?” Yuutarou said at last. Kunimi shook his head.

 

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said. Yuutarou nodded, but Kunimi stayed silent. Yuutarou glanced around.

 

“Come on,” he said softly, like he was talking to a cornered animal. “I know a quiet spot nearby.” Kunimi nodded, still not looking at Yuutarou, and hiked his bag a little higher on his shoulder. Yuutarou bit back a sigh.

 

He led Kunimi to the art building, shoving open the heavy side door that was always propped open with a cinder block. He took him past the studios on the first floor where the painting and sculpting majors were just arriving with their first coffee of the day, past the darkroom and the storage closets full of pigment and plaster. Up the stairs, past the second floor where a few students were smoking in the hallway, past the third floor where Yuutarou wasn’t sure people ever really left. He pulled Kunimi onto the fourth floor and down a long hallway.

 

There was a cramped little studio at the very end, dark and absolutely dismal. There was no natural light, and the fluorescents that lit it didn’t hum or flicker. There were no stories about this room being haunted, and the only drawing horse was nailed to the floor and yet it still wobbled. It was the room where art majors came to break free long enough to apply for the business college, where they came when they had no more existential despair left in them. Yuutarou had never seen it occupied. He flicked on the light and closed the door, dropping his bag against it and sliding down to the floor with a sigh.

 

“No one will bother us here,” he said. Kunimi nodded. He stood in the middle of the floor, and Kindaichi couldn’t help but think that he looked like he belonged there, like he had been sculpted by a master and flooded with the angst and beauty that the students on the first floor still had some hope of achieving. He looked like someone’s muse, like someone’s dream come to life. Galatea in the flesh. Yuutarou shook the thought away, and Kunimi was a mortal once more.

 

It was a long time before Kunimi spoke. He clung to the strap of his bag, staring at a random spot on the floor. Yuutarou waited. He had done a lot of waiting lately.

 

“Kageyama’s safety is my top priority,” Kunimi said at last. The words were large and heavy, like a memorized script. Then Kunimi looked up and that awkwardness fell away. “I promised him I’d keep him safe. No matter what.”

 

“I don’t want him hurt either,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi shook his head.

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Kunimi sighed and sat on the drawing horse, folding his hands in his lap. “I’ve made that promise twice in my life. To Kageyama, and to my best friend, when we were kids. It’s the one promise I’ve never broken. I know Oikawa told you about Kageyama, and I know that you helped him hide it on Friday. And for that you deserve to know the truth. But if I were to tell you that, it would mean breaking both of my promises.”

 

Yuutarou stared at the side of Kunimi’s face, where the light shone against his cheek, throwing the other half into shadow. It was a beautiful contrast, and Yuutarou wanted to capture it.

 

“Then don’t tell me,” Yuutarou sighed. “Oikawa-san said he set it up so that I can’t hurt myself on whatever sharp edges Kageyama left behind. If it would put someone else in more danger to take that away, then I don’t want it.”

 

“I want to tell you,” Kunimi murmured. “It’s not something I want to keep from you.”

 

“You have to.” Yuutarou said it simply, because it truly was simple. “You have a responsibility to Kageyama. And you have one to your friend. I’m just some guy you met in class.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Kunimi said.

 

“Isn’t it?” Kunimi looked up at him, and there was no steel in his eyes. There was only pain and fear and swirling chaos. Yuutarou returned the look as well as he could. “We have to finish the project, but there’s no commitment beyond that. We don’t have to make one if we’re careful.”

 

“I thought-” Kunimi cut off, looking away. There was a flush on the back of his neck.

 

“Kunimi?” Yuutarou prompted. Kunimi laughed derisively.

 

“I thought we might have been friends,” he said. Yuutarou smiled in spite of himself.

 

“I hoped we could be,” he admitted. “There’s nothing that says we can’t be.” Kunimi shook his head. He looked back at Yuutarou, and the steel wall was back.

 

“I don’t do casual friendships,” he said. “Every single one is a commitment. I take care of what’s mine.”

 

“Why do you sound like you’re warning me?” Yuutarou laughed. Kunimi smiled, and it made Yuutarou feel warm.

 

“Because if you want this, then you’re stuck with me.” The smile faded. “If you want this, then you’re stuck with the secrets. I can’t tell you, no matter how much I want to. It’ll hang over our heads forever.”

 

“It’s not like I’ve never kept a secret before,” Yuutarou said with a shrug. “I’ve kept Oikawa’s for years, and Kageyama’s. I can handle one being kept from me.”

 

“Can you?” Kunimi asked. “It’s a different world, on the other side.”

 

“You know,” Yuutarou said instead of answering, “I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk at a time? You’re a chatterbox today.” Kunimi blinked at him, face blank and mouth closed. Yuutarou laughed. “Come on,” he said, climbing to his feet. “I’m hungry, and _someone_ decided he didn’t want to talk in the dining hall.” Kunimi smiled at that, the barest twitch of his lips, and stood as well.

 

Yuutarou led the way down the long hall, past the third floor where Yuutarou wasn’t sure the people ever left, past the second floor where the group of students had changed and the cigarettes had turned to pot, past the storage closets filled with pigment and plaster, past the dark room and the painting and sculpting majors who had finished their first coffee of the day and were finally waking up, through the heavy door that was always propped open with a cinder block and out into the night. As they made their way back to the dining hall, Yuutarou thought about all the secrets he had kept during his life. He thought about Kunimi’s two promises, and about his warnings and his hesitation. He thought about Kuroo and the way he’d thrown his arm around Kunimi’s shoulders, and about Tsukishima laying his head in Hinata’s lap. He thought about their project and Ito-sensei and the thrum of magic at the core of the universe. He glanced at Kunimi, lit white and gold by the moonlight and the streetlights. He wondered what life would be like if they were different people with different lives.

 

“I hope there’s still udon left,” he said as he held the door open for Kunimi. “Hinata ate the last of it yesterday.”

 

-

 

For all that several people had been inside his mind, Akira was totally unprepared for the sensation of being in someone else’s. He hesitated for a moment at the border of his own mind, staring at the empty white void in front of him. Kageyama still held his hand, but he was standing in the nothing, waiting. Akira stepped forward.

 

There was the sound of windchimes and the smell of ocean, and the white faded away. Akira stepped forward onto a hillside by the seashore. They were behind an old, stately house, looking down the expanse of sand and grass to where the ocean spread out, unmoving. Kageyama sat on the porch, looking up at a windchime made of seaglass, his typical frown etched on his face.

 

“This is my grandpa’s house,” he said.

 

“Okay?” Kunimi sat next to him, waiting for an explanation. Kageyama shook his head.

 

“You can’t choose the meeting place,” he said. “The forest was something that your mind supplied and my magic made real. I didn’t choose this place.”

 

“What’s so significant about it?” Akira asked. He was barefoot, and he dug his toes into the sand. He couldn’t feel it.

 

“Maybe nothing,” Kageyama said. “It just surprised me. I haven’t been here in a long time.” Akira stared out at the lifeless ocean, listening to Kageyama sort out his thoughts. A door flickered into view in front of them. “Oikawa-san can do this without a door,” he muttered, standing up.

 

“Oikawa-san?” asked Akira, adjusting his grip on Kageyama’s hand. He was suddenly very sure that he didn’t want to get separated here.

 

“My neighbor,” Kageyama said with a tighter scowl. “You’ll see.”

 

They stepped through the door and into a school gymnasium, crowded with people and carnival booths. Akira caught sight of Kageyama, short and wide-eyed, clinging to the shirt of a child a few years older than him, with floppy brown hair and a wide smile. Kageyama and Akira followed them through the crowd, over to a ring toss booth. The child slapped down a few yen and snatched a ring, sending it flying toward the pegs. It went wide and fell to the ground, and the child set his jaw, picking up the next ring. It missed as well, and the child’s eyes lit with determination. He threw the last ring, and it was clearly going to miss. Until it wasn’t. The ring turned abruptly in midair and dropped onto a peg. The child stared at it, his eyes wide and mouth slack.

 

“Hey, kid, what’s the big idea?” asked the student working the booth. “No telekinesis.”

 

“I didn’t,” the child said, shaking his head. “I’m not telekinetic.”

 

“Well _someone_ did,” said the student, looming over the boys. The younger Kageyama looked terrified, the older resigned. Akira squeezed his hand.

 

“I’m telling you, we didn’t,” spat the child. He winced, glancing around the room.

 

“Cheaters aren’t welcome here,” insisted the student. “Leave, before I call someone to make you leave.” The pegs behind the booth started to rattle.

 

“Look, if you don’t want to give us the prize that’s fine, just give me my money back,” the child said. He rubbed at his temple with a grimace.

 

“You’ve got one last chance before I call security,” shouted the student. The pegs rattled louder, then all of a sudden the entire booth - and the child with Kageyama - collapsed. The child screamed, clutching his head, as his body writhed and twitched and the younger Kageyama started to cry.

 

There was a commotion and several adults flooded the scene. Kageyama screamed, reaching out for the child on the ground even as a woman scooped him into her arms. The scene faded as the woman took Kageyama away, until they were back at the house by the sea.

 

“They enrolled me at Aoba Jousai the next day,” Kageyama said.

 

“What happened to that kid?” Akira asked. Kageyama looked down.

 

“I ruined him,” he said. “I blocked off his magic, and all but crushed his spinal column. He can walk now, with a cane, and I heard he’s in a magic high school, but he was a prodigy. He was the most powerful mage I’d ever met, and I crippled him. He was my friend, and now he hates me. So I get why you left before you could hurt Kindaichi.”

 

“I’m sorry, Kageyama,” Akira murmured.

 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Kageyama whispered. “That’s what they keep telling me. It wasn’t my fault. My magic manifested, and Oikawa-san got caught up in it. But I was still the one who ruined his life.” Akira wrapped his arm around Kageyama’s shoulders.

 

“So we’re both little monsters,” he said. “But at least we’re monsters together.”

 

Kageyama didn’t answer. They sat together watching the still ocean for an endless stretch. Akira wasn’t sure when they made the transition from sitting to walking, but the windchimes faded away and soon they were walking under thick canopies of leaves, back into Akira’s mind. Kageyama drew them out of the forest and back to Akira’s bed in their dorm. Akira blinked and scrubbed at the dried tears on his cheeks. Kageyama wiped at his face, staring at Akira’s bedspread. The sky had gone dark outside their window, the halls quiet around them.

 

“Come on,” Akira whispered, reaching out to tug at Kageyama’s sleeve. Kageyama stood long enough for Akira to pull back the covers, then let Akira coax him onto the bed. Akira pulled the blankets up around them and closed his eyes against the exhausted stinging. He felt heavy and sluggish, and Kageyama didn’t seem much better, but just then Akira felt safe. Akira fell asleep with Kageyama’s head tucked under his chin and Kageyama’s arms wrapped around his waist and Kageyama’s breathing slowly turning soft and even. For the first time since coming to Aoba Jousai, Akira slept soundly through the night, and woke the next morning warm and content.

 

-*-


	17. Chapter 17

Kunimi was waiting for Yuutarou when he got out of his economics class on Thursday. He smiled when he saw Yuutarou, just a little upward twitch of his lips, but it made Yuutarou’s world light up. They fell easily into step as they walked away from the general classrooms building, toward the little field on the far side of campus.

 

The nervous energy that had followed Kunimi like a cloud last time was gone, replaced with an entirely reasonable caution. It felt less like walking next to a rabid dog and more like walking with a wolf who knew the power of its teeth and claws and knew how to keep them safe. Yuutarou set about photographing the test areas they would be working in while Kunimi pulled out the notebook.

 

The hard frost had finally broken, leaving the earth soft and buzzing under Yuutarou’s feet. The ease with which Yuutarou coaxed up enough new growth to work with make his fingers feel warm and his lips stretch into a smile as he took more pictures. He turned back to see Kunimi watching him, something fond and bright in his eyes. He handed Yuutarou the book and nodded.

 

The new spell was drawn out next to the old one, the differences marked in Kunimi’s neat hand. Yuutarou hummed to himself as he started working at it, picturing the spell like a hoop with two bars through its middle, a crossbeam of support. He sang wordlessly to the grass, reminding it of what it could be, tall and unyielding in the face of time and progress.

 

This time when Kunimi started weaving his magic through Yuutarou’s, it was a much more intricate pattern than the last. A spider’s web of light and heat sketched itself across Yuutarou’s hoop, doubling back in on itself again and again. Yuutarou thought that if he could actually see it, a pattern like words along a pedestal would appear, shining gold and red. They finished their cross stitch of magic and let it settle into place, and this time, Yuutarou didn’t let himself look at Kunimi. He watched the sparks fade from his vision and felt the tingle of his magic separating from Kunimi’s, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 

When the last remnants were gone, he opened his eyes to find Kunimi staring at him, color riding high on his cheeks. Yuutarou grinned, flushed himself from the working and the thrill of meshing his soul with someone else’s, if only for a short time. Kunimi rolled his eyes and pointed mutely to the physics building. Yuutarou retreated with a laugh. He leaned against the wall and watched Kunimi tuck his hair behind his ear. There was the glow of Kunimi’s fingertips, and the rush of magic like the entire world was pulling itself closer to Kunimi, holding its breath in anticipation. Fire rose from the two squares for a count of five, then faded back down along with the glow of Kunimi’s fingertips. Yuutarou pushed off from the wall and jogged back to their experiment field.

 

This time, instead of scorched and dead, the field looked lightly charred. There were a few stubborn curls of what might have been called green, and thrumming, solid earth underneath the thin layer of ash. Yuutarou fished out his phone and started taking pictures.

 

“We’re getting closer!” he said happily as he moved to the control square. “This might actually work!”

 

“You are way too excited about this,” Kunimi said, and he sounded like he might have been smiling. Yuutarou looked up, and sure enough, his lips curled upward at the corners, his eyes crinkling slightly. Yuutarou lifted his phone, snapping a picture before Kunimi had a chance to realize what he was doing. “Did you just-”

 

“Just what?” Yuutarou hummed, turning back to the field.

 

“Delete it.”

 

“Delete what?”

 

“Kindaichi.” Yuutarou grinned at Kunimi and slipped his phone into his pocket. He scooped up his bag and turned away, whistling as he started walking out of the field. Behind him, Kunimi sighed and followed more slowly. Yuutarou paused at the edge of the courtyard, waiting for him to catch up, and together they set off for the cafe, bumping shoulders and shoving each other off of the sidewalk.

 

They were laughing when they arrived, and Yuutarou couldn’t help but think of how different it was from the last time they’d been here. Yuutarou shoved Kunimi onto the couch while he went up to the counter to buy their drinks, ignoring his protests.

 

“What are you two so happy about?” Kageyama grumbled. Yuutarou grinned at him.

 

“We get to come here and be treated to your lovely company,” he said. Kageyama grimaced.

 

“You’ve been hanging around Tooru too much,” he said, picking up a cup and a sharpie.

 

“You’re literally his boyfriend,” Yuutarou said.

 

“Don’t remind me,” Kageyama muttered, turning around to start up the espresso machine. As Yuutarou watched him, the little bells tinkled over the door and Watari crossed the shop to lean on the counter next to him. He watched Yahaba empty the vat of luck and start cleaning the inside with a rag. Watari grinned and leaned forward.

 

“Hey, Kageyama, can I have a large caramel macchiato with two shots of luck?” he asked. Yahaba stiffened, and the vat almost slipped from his fingers. He turned around, then slumped with relief when he saw who was ordering, throwing the rag in his face.

 

“Make your own damn luck,” he said. “The batch you made this morning spoiled.”

 

“Really?” Watari asked with a frown. “There should be more in the walk-in.”

 

“It went bad,” Yahaba said, turning back to the sink. “Last guy who drank some of it stepped outside and the wind picked up so hard that the trashcan tipped over, right into him. Then a bird shat on his head and he’d locked his keys in his car.”

 

“Well, then, can I get some charm instead? There’s this tall, dark, and handsome guy here who keeps refusing my advances.” Watari winked up at Yuutarou, who rolled his eyes.

 

“Your advances mean nothing to me, Watari-san,” Yuutarou said, accepting his and Kunimi’s drinks from Kageyama. He ignored the pout Watari aimed at his back as he returned to his little corner in the back.

 

“That took a while,” Kunimi commented, accepting his drink without looking up from his laptop. “Can you email me the before and afters?” Yuutarou dug out his phone to do as he was told, and the shop settled into a peaceful almost-quiet. He read over Kunimi’s shoulder, half paying attention as Oikawa arrived to start his shift and a steady stream of customers came and went. It wasn’t until a crash and a shriek sounded behind the counter that Yuutarou looked up at all.

 

Oikawa was standing beside the blenders, drenched in a shimmery golden liquid staring at Ushijima on the other side of the counter.

 

“Oikawa, are you okay?” asked Ushijima, one hand reaching toward him in an aborted move. Oikawa stared at him, his mouth opening and closing, then all at once his eyes lost their focus and his face went slack. He slumped, slowly, to the floor.

 

“Did he just-” Yahaba started, staring down at the Oikawa-puddle. “Did he just dump that entire vat of calm on himself?”

 

“Yes,” said Kageyama, through the hand he had slapped over his own face. “Yes, that’s exactly what he just did.”

 

“Okay,” Yahaba sighed. “Go grab a tarp or something out of the back so we can move him.”

 

“Too late,” said Watari, who by this point was lying on his stomach on the counter, peering at Oikawa. “It’s already absorbed. He’s fine to touch now.”

 

“Lovely,” muttered Yahaba. Yuutarou watched him and Kageyama hook their arms under Oikawa and lift him off the floor. He stumbled between them as they led him around the counter, staring up at the ceiling with a dopey smile on his face. Yuutarou bit back a grimace as they brought him back to the corner and dropped him in the empty armchair. He bounced with a giggle, his long limbs melting against the upholstery.

 

“ _Hiiiiii_ , Kindaichi,” he slurred. “Hi, Kunimi-channn.”

 

“Hello, Oikawa-san,” said Kunimi, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Ushijima asked. He was watching Oikawa with a pained expression.

 

“Honestly, this will probably do him some good,” Yuutarou said. Oikawa smiled at him. “He could use some actual relaxation.”

 

“He could have done this off the clock,” Yahaba muttered.

 

“Oh, be nice,” said Watari. “He was surprised.”

 

“Surprised by what?” asked Ushijima, brow furrowing. Watari grinned up at him.

 

“Probably by being in the same room as such a specimen,” he purred, dragging his eyes up and down Ushijima’s body. He leaned up on his elbows, arching his back and tilting his chin so that he could stare up at him through his eyelashes. Yuutarou looked away.

 

“Oikawa has been in the same room as me many times,” Ushijima said, sounding puzzled. “He has no reason to be surprised now.”

 

“And yet,” muttered Kageyama, refilling the calm.

 

“And yet, you must admit, Ushijima-san, you do have certain… startling qualities to you,” Watari said. “I’d love to find out more about them.”

 

“Shinji, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” sighed Yahaba.

 

“Aww, really?” whined Watari, all the charm and seduction leaving him in a rush, replaced by lazy petulance. Kunimi nudged Yuutarou with his elbow and he looked up, only to catch sight of Oikawa’s face turning bright red. The color faded somewhat, then came back, then faded again. Oikawa’s face was contorting between utter contentment and horror, never quite mustering the energy to stay there for long.

 

“Oikawa-san?” whispered Yuutarou, scooting closer to him. “Are you okay?”

 

“Kindaichi,” slurred Oikawa. He managed to drag his eyes over to Yuutarou. “Kindaichi, why won’t my face work? I can’t be charming if my face doesn’t work.” He sounded utterly unconcerned by this. Yuutarou smiled, reaching out to stroke Oikawa’s hair.

 

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “You wanna come sit with me?” Oikawa’s head lulled in something like a nod, and Yuutarou chuckled. He stood, wrangling Oikawa into his arms and dragging him over to the couch. Oikawa looped his arms around Yuutarou’s neck and slumped into his side with a happy little hum.

 

“You’re warm,” he murmured. His eyes drooped and he grew heavier against Yuutarou. Within moments his breathing turned deep and even and his arms slipped. Yuutarou arranged him more comfortably for the both of them, then turned back to Kunimi.

 

“That’s adorable,” Kunimi said as he snapped a picture of Oikawa drooling on Yuutarou’s shoulder.

 

“Pardon me.” Yuutarou startled at the sound of Ushijima’s voice, jostling Oikawa who whined softly and resettled himself on Yuutarou’s arm. Ushijima watched him, something unreadable in his eyes. He glanced back at the counter, where Kageyama nodded at him. “Could you please give this to Oikawa when he wakes?”

 

He handed Yuutarou a folded paper with Oikawa’s name written on the outside. Yuutarou nodded, holding the paper close to his stomach. Ushijima hesitated for a moment, eyes on Oikawa, then bowed stiffly and turned on his heel, marching out the door.

 

“Is he ever anything other than awkward?” Yahaba asked. Kageyama made a face.

 

“When Tooru’s involved? No,” he said.

 

“And when Oikawa-san _isn_ _’t_ involved?” asked Watari.

 

“Not really,” answered Kageyama. Yuutarou glanced at Kunimi, who shrugged and plucked the paper out of Yuutarou’s hand. He set it on the table and dragged his laptop closer, reading over their notes on the day’s experiment. Yuutarou ran his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, pointing to the screen with his free hand as he made comments here and there, and a part of him felt utterly at ease. By the time Kunimi went home and Iwaizumi showed up to help with Oikawa, Yuutarou’s eyes were drooping shut with the kind of contented sleepiness that came from the warmth and safety of home.

 

-

 

Akira threw himself into training, determined to help Kageyama keep both his secret and his control. He couldn’t get the image of the boy, Oikawa, out of his mind, whole and happy one minute and crippled and cut off from his magic the next. He wondered every now and then what kind of fortitude it must have taken to rebuild that connection to his affinity after Kageyama had torn it asunder, and each time he would work harder.

 

Time began to pass, the world growing warmer and the hole in Akira’s chest easier to carry. As he grew closer to his classmates at Aoba Jousai, he found that he thought about Kindaichi less and less. He looked up one day from where he was sprawled half in Kenma’s lap, watching Lev chase Bokuto around a courtyard, and realized he hadn’t wished he was back home in over a week.

 

“It’s because this is your home now,” Kenma said softly, and Akira didn’t call him out on the intrusion. He simply shuffled a little closer.

 

“I still miss him,” he murmured. Kenma ran his fingers through Akira’s hair, brushing it back from his forehead.

 

“You’ll probably always miss him,” he replied. “He was a part of you, and that part was taken away. But that doesn’t make it wrong to enjoy the new parts.”

 

Akira didn’t answer, and Kenma let him be.

 

Summer was approaching, and Akira was looking forward to the long break. As much as he wanted to work at his psychic training, for his sake and for Kageyama’s, he was tired. Some time away from each other was exactly what the two of them needed.

 

Or so he thought, until the day he came back to the dorm after his regular classes to drop off his books before his extra classes, and found Kageyama huddled on the floor with his head in his hands. Akira dropped his bag and crouched in front of him.

 

“Kageyama,” he called softly. “Kageyama, can you hear me?” Kageyama whimpered, curling tighter. “Okay, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe here.”

 

“Can’t-” gasped Kageyama, flinching. Akira reached out slowly to lay a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder.

 

“Kageyama, can you look up for me?” Akira asked. Slowly, painfully, Kageyama’s head lifted from his hands, though his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. Akira took a deep breath and gathered a glove of heat and light to himself. His fingers were engulfed in flame and he held them in front of Kageyama. After a moment, Kageyama’s eyes drew to the fire and he stared at it, still trembling and still tense, but focused now. “Can you move the fire?” Akira whispered.

 

Akira was becoming used to sensations being strange, but Kageyama’s telekinesis taking hold of Akira’s fire and pulling it where his magic had not told it to go was by far the worst. He grit his teeth, reminding himself that he had trusted Kageyama with far more than this, and Kageyama had never let him down. The fire moved erratically, like Kageyama wasn’t sure how to hold it. He frowned, and the fire drew more tightly together, a lumpy, flickering ball. Kageyama moved it around carefully, then brought it to hover between them. Akira reached out and touched a fingertip to the ball, the way he had seen Saeko do the first time he and Kageyama had connected, and willed the fire away. It faded, leaving Akira and Kageyama alone on the floor of their bedroom. Akira shuffled around until he could sit next to Kageyama, leaning against the bed with his legs spread in front of him.

 

“You okay?” Akira whispered.

 

“Not really,” Kageyama replied.

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Kageyama made a face.

 

“No,” he said. A pause and a grimace, then he continued, “My parents want me to come home for summer break.”

 

“Is that a bad thing?” Akira felt dumb for asking, but without letting Kageyama in there was no way to read his thoughts, and Akira was not about to put that strain on either of them just then. Kageyama took a deep breath and let his legs stretch out, hands hanging limp and empty in his lap.

 

“Home means Oikawa-san,” he said at last. “I hate going back there, because it just reminds us both of what I did to him.”

 

“He’s what, sixteen now?” Akira asked. Kageyama nodded. “You said he can walk, and that he’s got enough of his magic back to go to a magic high school. Whatever you did, it clearly did not ruin him for life.”

 

“It ruined his potential,” Kageyama said. “I’ll always be that monster lurking in the shadows for him.”

 

“Maybe,” Akira said. “But that’s not something you can change. It’s his choice, not yours.”

 

“I know,” Kageyama murmured. “That doesn’t mean I want to face him, though.”

 

Akira was silent for a long time. They were late for their class, and Takeda-sensei would send someone to look for them soon, but Akira couldn’t bring himself to care. He thought of the break he’d had pictured, of the time away from Kageyama and all the chaos that came with him. He sighed.

 

“If you want, I’ll go with you,” he said. “Or I could invite you to mine. Whatever. So, you know, you won’t have to face him alone.” He glanced over to see Kageyama staring at him. “What?”

 

“You would do that?” Kageyama murmured. Akira shrugged.

 

“We’re friends, right?” he asked. Quickly, before the moment could turn awkward, he added, “besides, I have a contractual obligation to help maintain your peace of mind. If it means spending my break in your hometown instead of here, it’s not that big of a deal.” Before Akira knew what was happening, Kageyama’s arms were around his neck and Kageyama himself was practically in his lap.

 

“Thank you,” Kageyama breathed. Akira patted his back lightly, not sure what else to do.

 

“I have to call my mom first,” he said. “And you should tell your parents too. But. You’re welcome.”

 

Kageyama only tightened his grip, and that was how Bokuto and Kuroo found them five minutes later, matching grins on their faces while Akira glared at Kuroo’s camera.

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck this chapter it was the absolute w o r s t to write


	18. Chapter 18

The days were turning hectic with approaching midterms. Ito-sensei managed to raise enough of a ruckus that their department-required exam became multiple choice, and half the questions revolved around the color of his shirt, but Yuutarou’s other classes were not so lenient. And Oikawa’s were even worse.

 

Iwaizumi dragged Yuutarou over to their flat on the third day of the test week, face like a thundercloud. He didn’t answer any of Yuutarou’s inquiries, too busy muttering obscenities under his breath, and after a few minutes Yuutarou decided it was best to stop asking.

 

He followed Iwaizumi into the flat, only to collide with his back when he stopped dead in the doorway to the living room. Yuutarou peeked over his shoulder to see Oikawa sitting in a sports bra and ratty sweatpants, a mountain of notes spread around him, scattered here and there with what looked like empty takeout containers. He was pale and his hair was a mess, his glasses slipping down his face. There were sparks and blurs of light going off all around him, stress manifesting through magic.

 

“Oh good, Iwa-chan, you’re back,” he said. “I hope you remembered the-” Oikawa stopped dead when he looked up to see Yuutarou standing behind his roommate. “Iwa-chan, you said you were going out for groceries.”

 

“I said I was going out for supplies,” Iwaizumi returned. “I brought coffee for _me_ and Kindaichi for _you._ ”

 

“I thought we agreed not to bother Kindaichi,” Oikawa cooed, all ice and acid.

 

“ _You_ agreed not to bother Kindaichi,” Iwaizumi said with a shrug as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered off down the hall. “I made no such agreement.” The door to Iwaizumi’s bedroom closed, but Yuutarou knew he would be waiting just on the other side to see if Yuutarou succeeded or not.

 

“Sorry about him, Kindaichi,” Oikawa said, granting Yuutarou one of his perfect, princely smiles. “I’m sure you have better things to do than sit around watching me study.”

 

“Not really,” Yuutarou said with a shrug. “I have my books with me, and it’ll make him feel better if I stay. Maybe get him off your back for a bit?”

 

“I know you’re up to something, Kindaichi,” Oikawa said. Yuutarou shrugged again.

 

“Honestly, not really. But it’s quieter here than in the library, so…” Oikawa stared at him for a moment, then threw his hands up with a sigh that was more dramatics than substance. Yuutarou shot him a grin and flopped down across from him, shoving a couple of takeout cartons away to make room for his own notebook. He started reviewing his notes on uses for dandelion leaves, waiting for Oikawa to settle back into his studies as well.

 

Yuutarou didn’t understand how Oikawa hadn’t figured out this trick yet. Suga had taught it to him during his second year, when Oikawa was killing himself over his eligibility for grad school and hadn’t slept in two weeks straight. He had used it three or four times since then, and every time he expected Oikawa to catch on and block him out. Yet it never happened.

 

He waited until Oikawa was so absorbed that the lights started their sickly sputtering. Without his tight control over it, the tails of Oikawa’s magic stretched out and brushed against Yuutarou, and he held them fast. Carefully, slowly, he began drawing more and more of Oikawa’s psychic presence to himself, humming a lullaby in his mind to help the process. The lights slowed their flickering and Oikawa’s head nodded. He almost lost it then, but as Oikawa tried to read the small lines of text in front of him, his guard slipped more and Yuutarou pulled a little harder. Oikawa’s head sagged once more, and this time it didn’t lift again.

 

“Iwaizumi-san,” called Yuutarou softly, keeping up the quiet humming in his head. Sure enough, the door opened and Iwaizumi emerged, eyes pinned to Oikawa.

 

“He okay?” Iwaizumi asked, reaching out absently to trial his fingers through Oikawa’s hair.

 

“He should sleep for a couple of hours at least,” he said. “Can you help me get him to his room?” Iwaizumi nodded and stooped, wrapping his arms carefully behind Oikawa’s shoulders and under his knees. Yuutarou followed him into Oikawa’s bedroom, humming aloud now to keep the magic flowing. Once Iwaizumi settled Oikawa in the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, Yuutarou let the link slip away. Oikawa sighed and rolled over, snuggling into his pillow. Yuutarou and Iwaizumi crept out.

 

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi said once the door was shut behind them.

 

“How long was he like that?” Yuutarou asked. Iwaizumi grimaced.

 

“Two days,” he said. “Not long enough to trigger your contract, but…”

 

“Thank you for letting me know, Iwaizumi-san,” Yuutarou murmured. “I hate when he doesn’t take care of himself.”

 

“Me too,” Iwaizumi muttered. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep Kageyama from coming over? If I didn’t think it would end in a fight I would’ve just left him to be discovered there.” Yuutarou shuddered at the image, suddenly even more grateful to Iwaizumi.

 

“I should get going,” Yuutarou said. “Will you call me if he starts to do it again?”

 

“Definitely,” Iwaizumi replied. Yuutarou thanked him and moved to the living room to gather his things. He shuffled Oikawa’s notes into an order that would probably make sense to him in the morning, then shouldered his bag and stood. As he turned, he caught sight of the note Ushijima had left for Oikawa the day of the Great Calm Debacle, half-poking out of a notebook. Yuutarou nudged it into place, smiling. He left the apartment and made the trek back to his dorm with that same smile still in place.

 

-

 

Yuutarou was allowed one trip to the nursery per semester, and never unsupervised. There was something to do with too many trips ending in him bringing an entire forest into the dorm room, though he was sure Tsukishima was exaggerating.

 

Flower shops, however, were a different story. And with Hinata and Yachi’s anniversary coming up, he was only all too happy to accompany him on his quest for the perfect bouquet. He was, after all, the expert in their friend group on all things green and growing.

 

“Kei says you’re only allowed to bring home one bouquet, but I think that’s dumb, so we should just get however many you want and then have it made into one big bouquet,” Hinata said as he skipped along the street, kicking at puddles from the recent storm. Yuutarou shook his head and tugged his coat tighter around himself; the frost may have broken, but it was still too damn cold to be flouncing about like it was the middle of summer. He let Hinata’s endless chatter wash over him, enormously glad to be doing something other than studying or taking a test or babysitting Oikawa. As he turned into the shop, he wondered once again whether it would be a bad idea to get a job there, just to have something else to occupy his time.

 

A riot of sensation assaulted him all at once, earth magic of every taste and color. He smiled, reaching out to touch the petal of a wilting rose. It perked right up, blooming red and brilliant.

 

“Okay!” Hinata crowed, standing at the front of the shop and looking like he was ready to go to battle. “Let’s make the most romantic bouquet ever!” Yuutarou smiled and watched as Hinata grabbed a fistful of buttercups.

 

“You sure about those?” Yuutarou asked. Hinata looked at the flowers, then back at Yuutarou.

 

“…Why?” he asked. Yuutarou shrugged.

 

“They mean ingratitude and childishness,” he said. Hinata looked at the flowers once more, then dropped them back into their bucket.

 

“See, this is why I bring you for these things,” he said, dusting his hands off and setting off once more.

 

Yuutarou followed him around the shop, giving the names and meanings of each of the flowers he pointed out. When the reached the end, Yuutarou looked over what they had gathered and made Hinata put about half of it back, more for the aesthetic than for the meaning. A flash of gold caught his eye and he grinned, reaching out to pluck a single dwarf sunflower from its place.

 

“Here,” he said, holding the flower out to Hinata. “Devout adoration.” Hinata beamed and took it, dropping it on the counter with the rest of the stack. While he chattered with the girl behind the counter, Yuutarou wandered the aisles again, trying to decide what to get for himself. He was stooping to admire a cluster of violets when someone cried out in surprise and tripped over him.

 

“I’m so sorry!” Yuutarou cried, spinning to help them up. His eyes went wide when he realized who had collided with him.

 

“No, I didn’t see you there,” Kunimi said, reaching out to take Yuutarou’s hand. On his feet, he rubbed at the side of his head with a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Hinata and Yachi-san’s anniversary is tomorrow, so I was helping him pick a bouquet,” Yuutarou said. “Why are you here?”

 

“My mom’s birthday,” Kunimi replied, holding up his handful. It was one of the pre-arranged bouquets, very pretty, but a contradiction of meanings. Yuutarou didn’t mention it.

 

“Are you okay?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi was staring at something over Yuutarou’s shoulders, his cheeks flooding with color.

 

“Fine,” he said, sounding dazed. “Just fine.”

 

“You sure? You look…” Kunimi shook his head, his eyes focusing on Yuutarou’s face.

 

“I’m fine,” he said, firmly. “Just a little disoriented.”

 

“Do you want me to walk you back to your…” Yuutarou trailed off, feeling heat rise to his own face. “You live in the dorms, don’t you? Would you like me to walk you back there?” Kunimi smiled.

 

“Thank you, but no,” he said. “I’m actually heading right next door, for work. I just stopped by to pick these up on my way in.” Yuutarou nodded, at a loss for what to say. The silence began to stretch between them, and Yuutarou held back a cringe at the beginnings of awkwardness.

 

Thankfully, the tension was broken by Hinata, knocking over a stand of greeting cards in his attempt to barrel toward them. Kunimi snickered, stepping carefully around the mess.

 

“Have fun with that,” he said. “See you Monday.”

 

“See you,” Yuutarou said, raising a hand to wave, though Kunimi was already gone. He shook himself and bent to help Hinata pick up the cards. He glanced up, wondering what it was about the chrysanthemums and dahlias he’d been standing in front of that had made Kunimi so muddled.

 

“So, what’s his deal?” asked Hinata suddenly as they put the last of the cards back into their place.

 

“Whose deal?” asked Yuutarou absently.

 

“Kunimi’s. He’s Kageyama’s friend and all, but like, I don’t know anything about him.” Yuutarou shrugged.

 

“I only just met him this semester,” he said.

 

“Right, right, you two are parters for that project or whatever,” Hinata said, waving a hand. “But like, what’s his _deal_?”

 

“How do you mean?” Yuutarou asked. Hinata waved his hand around some more, tossing out some sounds that meant absolutely nothing. “Look, you’ll have to ask Kageyama. Or better yet, ask Kunimi himself. I really don’t know him that well.”

 

“But you guys were-” Hinata cut himself off, closing his mouth with an audible click. He shook his head and picked up his bag and bouquet, pushing out the door. Yuutarou watched him for a moment, then followed, shaking off the feeling that he was missing something yet again.

 

-

 

Akira’s mother was only all too happy to agree to the change in summer plans. She had waved off his questions with a cheerful, “I’m just glad to see you making friends!” and set about making sure he would have everything and everything he could possibly need for the duration of his stay. Kageyama’s parents were unenthusiastic about the idea, but allowed it without much of a fight. Akira’s life became a flurry of finals and preparations for the trip, until all of a sudden it was the first morning of summer and he was standing on a train platform next to Kageyama, listening to the rumble of the tracks. They watched the train approach in silence. When it came to a stop and the doors opened, Kageyama hefted his bag and climbed aboard without a word.

 

Akira waited until they were seated in a mostly empty carriage, the tension thick between them. Kageyama’s shoulders were wound tight and he was glaring at the seat in front of him like it had personally insulted him. Akira sighed quietly and reached over to twine their fingers together.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. Kageyama glanced at him, then turned to stare out the window.

 

“No it won’t,” he muttered. “Not until we’re back here again.” The train lurched into motion, and Akira set his jaw.

 

“It’s not going to be good for a while,” he admitted. “But I’m here with you. I won’t let you fall apart.”

 

“You may not be able to help it,” Kageyama said seriously.

 

“Watch me,” Akira snapped. He didn’t think he imagined the ghost of a smile that tugged at Kageyama’s expression. He let go of Kageyama’s hand to dig around in his bag. “In the meantime,” he said, pulling out their summer reading, both his copy and the one Kageyama had tried to leave behind, “we can get a head start on this.” He handed Kageyama one of the books, ignoring his scowl as he opened his own copy. He had started it the night before and was already about halfway through it, but he knew that Kageyama would try to put it off as long as he could. Akira smiled as Kageyama’s grumbling subsided and he settled in to read.

 

They passed the time that way, Akira pausing every now and then to help Kageyama through a tricky passage, as the rolling hills turned to grasslands. Akira felt the moment Kageyama caught sight of the sea, the way his entire body tensed and he stared out the window. Akira thought for a moment about missing his own home, but then shoved it aside in favor of letting Kageyama point out the childhood landmarks they passed. He leaned his head on Kageyama’s shoulder, watching lazily as they passed shops and parks and a pier, each with their own story to tell. Then all at once Kageyama grew very still and very quiet.

 

There, standing by a food cart with a grin on his face was a teenage boy with floppy brown hair. Akira only got the briefest glimpse of him, but it was enough for Akira to tell that he was the boy in Kageyama’s worst memory. He laced their fingers together once more and squeezed. They were silent the rest of the way into the station.

 

There was no one to meet them there, but Akira hadn’t really expected anyone. Kageyama had mentioned that his parents might not be home when they arrived, that his mother went on frequent business trips and his father worked irregular shifts at the local hospital. He’d said it offhand, like it didn’t really matter, but Akira knew better. He’d been inside Kageyama’s head. He kept his tight hold on Kageyama’s hand as they walked through the streets.

 

Kageyama’s parents lived in an upscale apartment not far from the station. It was dark when they arrived, no one home to answer Kageyama’s greeting. Akira looked around at the fashionable furniture and the spotless, knick knack-less surfaces, thinking of the way his mother’s apartment was drowning in clutter the last time he’d visited.

 

“Come on,” Kageyama said softly. “The guest room’s down here.” And that was the thing. Kageyama’s parents had an apartment with a bedroom for their son and one more for guests, but the entire place looked like no one lived there at all. It was like a picture in a magazine, pristine and perfect and utterly staged. Akira dropped his bag on the floor and tugged Kageyama down onto the bed with him.

 

“You okay?” he murmured. Kageyama stared at him for a moment, eyes wide and a little frightened. Then he shuffled down and over until he could tuck his head under Akira’s chin.

 

“No,” he said. “I’m not.”

 

Akira didn’t say anything. He just held Kageyama in the dark, clinical guest room, until the growling of one of their stomachs drew them out of the bed and into the kitchen in search of food.

 

Kageyama’s father arrived while they were still searching, digging through the fridge for something - anything - unhealthy. Kageyama jumped, looking sheepish, and suddenly Akira was very nervous. Kageyama’s father looked a lot like his son, down to the strange cold light in his eyes as he raked them up and down Akira’s face.

 

“Kunimi-kun, what do you like on your pizza?” he asked suddenly. Akira stared at him.

 

“Uh, pretty much anything,” he said dumbly. Kageyama’s father smiled, and suddenly all the ice melted from his features.

 

“Tomoko prefers to keep only health foods in the house, but she won’t be back until Tuesday and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he said. He held out a hand and said, “I’m Kageyama Tsuyoshi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Akira shook it, glancing at Kageyama.

 

There was a light in Kageyama’s eyes, and if Akira didn’t know better he’d say it was relief. With a start, Akira realized he didn’t know much of anything at all about Kageyama’s parents, just that they were often gone and that Kageyama hadn’t been close to them since he was a child. But Tsuyoshi seemed nice enough, even friendly. Akira wondered how much of that went beyond the surface.

 

-*-


	19. Chapter 19

“D’you ever think that Iwaizumi-san kinda looks like a porcupine?” Yuutarou wondered aloud. He was lying on his back on the couch in the cafe, staring up at the ceiling while Kunimi sat on the floor near his hip and typed away at his magic in literature essay. Kunimi grunted.

 

“Do you ever think that you kind of look like a turnip?” he returned. Yuutarou nodded.

 

“Hinata said that the first time I tried this hairstyle,” he said. “Never could figure out why though. Doesn’t look like a turnip to me.”

 

“Of course it doesn’t.” Yuutarou couldn’t see Kunimi’s face from this position, but he had a strong suspicion that he was smiling. He craned his neck so that he could see the top of Kunimi’s head, the colored lights strung around them reflecting in the shine of his hair. Yuutarou’s fingers itched to touch, to feel those colors and the black that consumed them all.

 

Kunimi’s hair looked soft.

 

“Don’t you have homework to do?” Kunimi asked suddenly, and Yuutarou snatched back the hand he hadn’t even realized was reaching out. He whined wordlessly, almost missing Kunimi’s quiet chuckle. He sat up enough to dig his economics textbook and notes out of his bag, but didn’t get much farther than that. He stared at the wall with no idea why he was doing it or how long it had been since he had started. It wasn’t until Kunimi sat down near his feet and handed him a warm cup that he even realized Kunimi had moved.

 

“Thanks,” Yuutarou said, taking a long pull. The coffee flowed through him, tinged with something warm and bitter and smelling of Watari. He frowned. “What did you put in this?” he asked.

 

“I didn’t put anything in it,” Kunimi said, settling back into his seat on the floor. “Oikawa did.”

 

Yuutarou glanced up at Oikawa, who merely smiled and wiggled his fingers. All the laziness had drained from Yuutarou’s limbs, and he scowled as he pulled his notes to himself. Just because he had the energy and focus to finish his homework now did not mean he had to be happy about it.

 

He had finished reading and taking notes on the next three chapters and was considering starting a fourth when he was offered blessed distraction in the form of Yamaguchi, who stormed into the shop looking like he was ready to tear it apart with his bare hands.

 

“Where is he?” he snapped when he reached the counter, slapping his hands down and leaning threateningly toward Watari. Outside, thunder rolled uneasily.

 

“I have no idea,” Watari droned. Yamaguchi scowled.

 

“Kyoutani, I know you’re back there!” he shouted. “You can’t hide from me!” Lightning cracked across the sky, and all at once it started to rain inside the shop. Kunimi let out a cry of distress, lunging to save his laptop. Yuutarou started stuffing his own things into his backpack, half-watching Yamaguchi bully his way behind the counter and into the back room.

 

“Come on,” he said to Kunimi, who simply nodded and shoved his laptop under his shirt before dashing from the cafe.

 

“Do you think Yahaba-san will record it?” Kunimi asked once they were clear of the rain. He pulled his laptop out from under his shirt and carefully slid it into his bag. Yuutarou laughed.

 

“Only if Yamaguchi kills Kyoutani-san,” he said. “If they start making out, probably not.” Kunimi shot him a small smile, one that dissolved quickly as he wrapped his coat tighter around himself. “Hey, you okay?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“…I don’t like being wet,” Kunimi said, as though he were admitting something embarrassing. Yuutarou chuckled.

 

“Then we’d better get you out of those clothes,” he said, setting off toward the dorms. He caught sight of Kunimi’s face turning red, but figured it was from walking out into the chilly March air while soaking wet. He hesitated for just a moment before wrapping his arm around Kunimi’s shivering shoulders and drawing him close to his side.

 

Kunimi was warm, always so very warm, but now he was burning in Yuutarou’s hold. Yuutarou frowned, walking a little faster. They hadn’t been in Kyoutani’s rain very long, but it had been a cold downpour, and Kunimi was a fire mage, after all. Yuutarou had heard somewhere that fire magi were prone to getting sick in bad weather, though he wasn’t sure if that was fact or something he had picked up from a wives’ tale somewhere. Regardless, Kunimi shuddered and sneezed, and Yuutarou frowned and walked faster.

 

“You gonna be okay?” Yuutarou asked quietly when Kunimi stopped at a door and started digging his key out of his pocket.

 

“’M fine,” Kunimi muttered. He struggled with his key a moment, but got the door open before Yuutarou could bring himself to offer to help.

 

“Okay,” Yuutarou said slowly. “Let me know if you need anything?”

 

“Yup.” Kunimi shuffled into his room and the door shut between them. Yuutarou stared at the wood for a moment, then tucked his hands in his pockets and started back toward the stairs.

 

He opened the door to his room to find Tsukishima sprawled face-down on the floor. He picked his way carefully around the limbs and over to the dresser to pull out a towel and some dry clothes.

 

“What’s his problem?” Yuutarou asked. Hinata and Yachi glanced at him over the back of the couch, eyes bright with laughter.

 

“Yamaguchi went to see Kyoutani,” Hinata said.

 

“I know,” Yuutarou grumbled, pulling a new shirt over his head. “It started raining. Inside.” Hinata giggled.

 

“Is Kunimi-kun alright?” asked Yachi. She frowned. “Oh, dear.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Yuutarou asked. Yachi hummed, then started.

 

“Oh, nothing,” she said, waving her hands in front of her. “It’s just a cold, he will be fine.” Yuutarou glanced at her, then out the window. He thought of the way Kunimi had shivered the entire walk home, and the way Tsukishima got sick every summer. He groaned.

 

“What is it with you people,” he muttered, climbing back over Tsukishima to sit next to Hinata, a towel draped over his head.

 

“What people?” Hinata chirped as he flopped into Yuutarou’s lap.

 

“Ice and fire magi,” Yuutarou answered. “They’re all so high-maintenance.

 

“I would argue with you, but I’m too busy despairing,” Tsukishima told the carpet.

 

“Noted,” Yuutarou hummed. “Hinata do you think you could find out Kunimi’s favorite type of tea for me?”

 

“Why?” asked Hinata, even as he pulled out his cell phone.

 

“Because he _likes_ him,” Tsukishima teased the carpet.

 

“Because I was going to get some for myself anyway,” Yuutarou said. “Not everything has to be a romance, Tsukishima.”

 

“Tell that to Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima complained to the carpet.

 

“I’ll pass the message,” Yuutarou deadpanned. He nudged Hinata into a more comfortable position against his hip and closed his eyes, letting his head drop back against the couch.

 

-

 

It was nearly two in the morning when Yuutarou jolted awake. The light from the hallway narrowed and cut off as the door closed and a figure shuffled into the room. He heard the sound of sniffling, and then the lamp by Tsukishima’s bed turned on.

 

“Tadashi?” mumbled Hinata, propping himself up on an elbow. Yamaguchi stood in the middle of the room, one hand on the back of the couch, his head bowed and his hair obscuring his face. He sniffled again.

 

“Sorry, I-” He cut off, wiping at his face. Tsukishima climbed across Hinata and out of his bed, wrapping Yamaguchi in his arms without a word. Yamaguchi buried his face in Tsukishima’s chest and let out a sob.

 

“Tadashi, what happened?” murmured Hinata. Yamaguchi shook his head.

 

“I went to apologize,” he whispered. “I wanted to say I was sorry, because I know I’ve been a dick lately, and then today he stood me up, so I embarrassed him in front of everyone at the cafe. And like, he shouldn’t have stood me up like that, but that doesn’t mean I had to say the things I did. So I went to apologize.”

 

“What happened?” murmured Tsukishima. Yamaguchi pulled his face out of Tsukishima’s shirt and scrubbed at his eyes, leaning against the couch. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and sighed.

 

“He had company,” he murmured. “Watari-san _and_ Yahaba-san. They looked like they’d had a very good night.”

 

“You know…” Tsukishima trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck. It was strange, to see him hesitate to speak his mind. “The two of you aren’t exactly… established. Neither of you have agreed to be exclusive.”

 

“I know,” Yamaguchi sighed, staring at his shoes. “He’s free to sleep with whoever he wants. It’s not like I’ve given him any reason to think that I-” He bit his lip, looking away.

 

“Come on.” It was Hinata who spoke, climbing out of Tsukishima’s bed and digging a sweater out of the dresser. “Kei, Kindaichi, get dressed. We’re going out.”

 

“Where the fuck are we gonna go at two in the morning?” Tsukishima growled, but he took the jacket Hinata tossed at him and pulled it over his head nonetheless. Yuutarou shrugged and stood, digging around for a sweater of his own.

 

“You should know better than to argue with him by now,” he said. Tsukishima grunted.

 

“No, Shouyou, you don’t have to-” Hinata ignored Yamaguchi, already knocking on Yachi’s door. It opened and she padded into their room, already fully dressed.

 

“Are we ready to go?” she asked, smiling up at the three still in the room. Yuutarou chuckled and nodded, grabbing his shoes and his wallet.

 

They ended up at a restaurant with two tables and a sofa that only sold vegan burritos, the only place that was still open that late. Yuutarou sat squashed between Hinata and Yamaguchi, eating something stuffed with beans and fake cheese, unable to stop himself from smiling. It felt much like it had in high school, Hinata gesturing so hard he almost knocked Yuutarou over twice, Tsukishima watching him with that disgustingly fond look on his face, Yamaguchi watching _him_ with fond disgust, Yuutarou sitting quite happily in the middle of the chaos. Yachi giggled at a story about their second year, when Yamaguchi and Oikawa had accidentally charmed a toilet to hurl insults at whoever tried to use it. For a while, everything was absolutely perfect.

 

And then outside the window, the rain started.

 

It wasn’t the hard, stinging rain that had been in the cafe, nor the slow, melancholy rain that had punctuated Kyoutani’s departure for his semester abroad. This rain was gentle, clean. A spring shower.

 

The silence that fell over the table wasn’t heavy, but it consumed them nevertheless. Yamaguchi took a deep breath, looking around for any escape. Finding none, he pushed his chair back from the table and stood. Yuutarou watched him leave the restaurant and approach Kyoutani with the inexplicable knowledge that everything was going to turn out right settling in his gut. He took another bite of his burrito and settled back in his seat.

 

“Should we wait for him?” Hinata asked, craning around to try and see through the window. Yachi put a hand on top of one of his and he stilled.

 

“Let him be,” she said. “It’s not over, but it’s getting better now.”

 

“In that case,” Tsukishima yawned, “we should probably be getting back. _Someone_ has class at seven in the morning.” Yuutarou hummed in sleepy agreement, following Tsukishima, Hinata, and Yachi back to his dorm. He fell asleep thinking of his friends and how grateful he was to have them. He dreamed of another, one that he couldn’t remember, but knew was dear and precious to him, and in the morning he woke with tears dried on his pillowcase.

 

-

 

Kageyama’s hometown was remarkably similar to Akira’s, though he supposed that was to be expected, being less than an hour’s train ride apart. Still, whether it was the town itself or the proximity to the sea or the company he kept, Akira felt like a total stranger here: invisible, insignificant, and unafraid. He walked with Kageyama through the street that ran along the shore, running mindless errands, and no one so much as paused to look at him.

 

It took him a while to realize that it was because they were too busy _not_ looking at Kageyama.

 

Akira didn’t bring it up, but he knew when Kageyama noticed him noticing. His shoulders tensed and he looked a little more firmly at the ground. Akira bit back a sigh, reaching over to grasp Kageyama’s hand firmly in his own. Kageyama pulled away, stuffing the hand in his pocket.

 

“Don’t,” he muttered. “It’s bad enough you’re walking with me. You don’t need people getting the wrong idea.” Akira stared at him, enraged beyond belief that he would feel the need to say that - that he would feel like _Akira_ was the one needing protection. He grit his teeth and shoved his hand into the crook of Kageyama’s elbow, linking their arms together stubbornly. Kageyama stiffened again, glancing around wildly.

 

“It’s fine,” Akira murmured. “I don’t care what they think of me. None of them means anything to me.” Kageyama opened his mouth like he was about to protest, but something caught his eye. He pressed closer to Akira, his entire body fraught with nerves. Just as Akira was about to ask, he saw them.

 

At first glance, they looked like a completely ordinary pack of teenage boys. There were four of them, two in the middle, one walking backwards in the front, and one behind. The one in front was grinning, waving his hands around as he told a story, leaving streaks of light and color wherever they went. The two boys in the middle snickered and grinned, while the one in the back shouted obscenities. They could have been anyone at all, or no one.

 

But the one in front, the one with the story and the smile and the light magic, walked with a limp. It was remarkable, knowing that only a few years before he hadn’t had use of his legs or his magic at all. Truly, Oikawa must have been a remarkable boy. Akira found himself drawn to him, wanting to know what went on behind those over-bright brown eyes of his.

 

That is, until Oikawa glanced their way and his entire demeanor changed. The smile turned dark, sharp and cruel as a dagger’s edge. There was poison in Oikawa’s eyes as he looked at Kageyama, and a cold, bitter rage. Akira pressed himself closer to Kageyama and returned the glare with one of his own, steady and sure even as Kageyama trembled and looked away. For a moment, Oikawa’s eyes darted to Akira, narrowing in consideration. Then he tossed his head and returned to entertaining his friends.

 

The entire exchange could not have lasted more than a few seconds. Oikawa and his friends rounded a corner and Kageyama slumped into Akira, visibly shaking now with the chaos in his mind. Akira wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the crown on his head.

 

“Come on,” he murmured into Kageyama’s hair. “It’s okay, Kageyama. Come on, come with me.”

 

He led Kageyama between a pair of shops and onto the beach. He pulled him over to a little clump of trees and sat down, dragging Kageyama to sit beside him.

 

“Kunimi, I-”

 

“Shut up,” Akira whispered. He didn’t let go of his hold on Kageyama, but dropped his forehead onto his shoulder instead. “Come on,” he murmured.

 

It was just a touch, a tentative reach to find the edges of Akira’s mind and map their reach. Then Kageyama stepped over the white sea of silence and nestled somewhere between the beach and the forest, near where Akira was burning with rage and feverish with loyalty he hadn’t even known was so great. Akira stroked a hand along the curve of Kageyama’s spine, rocking them both gently back and forth.

 

“Breathe,” Akira said, both aloud and resonating through is own mind. Kageyama took a shuddering gulp of breath, and then another. “Good,” Akira whispered. “Keep it up.”

 

With the hand not wrapped around Kageyama’s shuddering torso, Akira called a candlewick’s worth of fire. He held it carefully, waiting for Kageyama to notice.

 

“Keep it small,” he murmured as he let Kageyama take hold of the fire. “We don’t want to draw too much attention.” Kageyama almost lost it at that, but he kept hold of the flame, drawing it in tight circles around Akira’s hand. He narrowed it to a pillar of light, then into a ball that he balanced on the tip of Akira’s middle finger. Akira let the magic fade, settling the hand on Kageyama’s hip instead. He waited.

 

“Thanks,” Kageyama said, several minutes later. Akira didn’t reply as he gathered Kageyama closer. Kageyama allowed them another minute or so of the contact, then pulled away. “We still have to get the groceries,” he murmured. Akira nodded and let him stand, accepting the hand up. This time, Kageyama didn’t let go, but laced their fingers firmly together. Akira squeezed his hand and together they set off toward the street.

 

“Has it been like this every time you’ve come home?” Akira asked softly. Kageyama glanced around, and shrugged.

 

“It was a lot worse before the physical therapy started helping,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve seen him without a cane or a crutch. But yeah. I’m the monster who crippled the town’s golden boy. I’m used to it.”

 

“You’re not,” Akira pointed out softly. “And you shouldn’t have to be.”

 

“You don’t have to fight the world for my sake,” Kageyama said, firm for all that it was quiet. Akira snorted, shooting a glare at the woman who crowded her child a little closer to herself as they walked past.

 

“Watch me,” he growled.

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post an extra chapter this week, since today is Kindaichi's birthday. Look out for chapter 20 tomorrow!


	20. Chapter 20

Kunimi was every bit as disgusting and miserable as Yuutarou expected when he bullied his way into his dorm the next day after he failed to show up to their elemental theory class. Kunimi’s roommate almost hadn’t let him in, too busy blocking the door with their long limbs and sharp eyes, but a groan from Kunimi got him through. He thanked the roommate as they slipped out the door, then turned to smirk at the boy ensconced in blankets on the bed.

 

“So,” Yuutarou hummed. “How ya feeling?”

 

“Fuck off and die,” Kunimi growled. Yuutarou laughed.

 

“Aw, and here I thought you might want some tea and soup,” he said. “But if you’re feeling so lively, I guess you don’t need it…”

 

“Just give me the damn soup,” Kunimi grumbled, shifting like he was going to sit up. He managed a few pathetic inches, then wobbled and collapsed back onto the bed. Yuutarou chuckled under his breath, setting his sack down on the desk beside Kunimi’s bed.

 

“Here,” he said. He sat carefully next to Kunimi, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and helping him to sit. He kept him propped up with one arm even as he reached for the container of soup with his free hand.

 

Kunimi was even warmer than usual, burning under Yuutarou’s hands and against his side as he ate. It would have been a nice sensation, if Yuutarou wasn’t so worried about him.

 

“Hey.” Yuutarou jolted at the sound of Kunimi’s voice, rough with sickness, but soft. “I can feel you thinking too hard. Stop it.”

 

“Sorry,” Yuutarou murmured. He glanced over to see Kunimi’s bowl empty, and took it to put back in the sack. “Do you want some tea now? I can leave the thermos if you want to sleep.”

 

“I always want to sleep,” Kunimi murmured. Yuutarou breathed a laugh. He stayed where he was for a moment, enjoying the way Kunimi was so warm and solid beside him. Kunimi’s head drooped onto Yuutarou’s shoulder as he dozed off, a solid, comfortable weight. He hummed under his breath, something old and tuneless that reminded him of summer afternoons in his childhood bedroom. Running his fingers through Kunimi’s hair, he let himself admit that this was nice, just existing with him like this. Then, with Kunimi’s chest moving with even and slow breath, he stood, easing Kunimi back onto the pillows. He was just tucking the blankets in tighter around him when the door opened and his roommate came back.

 

“Oh,” they said, blinking at Yuutarou. “Sorry, I thought you’d be- I can come back later.”

 

“It’s fine,” Yuutarou said quickly. “You’re Lev, right?”

 

“Yep,” they said, sticking their chest out proudly. Yuutarou resisted the urge to laugh.

 

“You’re exactly what I pictured,” he said.

 

“What does that mean?” Lev asked, head cocking to one side and long silver hair falling in their eyes. Yuutarou shook his head.

 

“Nothing,” he said softly. “I made some herbal tea, but he fell asleep. Would you mind if I left it here for when he wakes up?”

 

“Yeah, no problem!” Lev said brightly. “You know, he gets sick so often that he never really expects anyone to take care of him. He’s really grateful, even if he doesn’t act like it.”

 

“I- thanks,” Yuutarou stuttered, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “I’ll just. I’ll just be going, then.”

 

“Okay!” They shot him a blinding smile, and suddenly the grudging fondness that flooded Kunimi’s voice whenever he talked about his roommate made sense. He smiled, shaking his head as he turned to go.

 

With Kunimi passed out in a haze of his own misery, there wasn’t much left to entertain Yuutarou that afternoon. He found himself wandering to the cafe anyway, like he always did when he had nothing to do and nowhere to be.

 

Kageyama was there, because Kageyama was always there, and Kyoutani, and Oikawa, who was busy scolding Kyoutani for the mess he’d made of the place the day before. Yuutarou would have brushed it off, were it not for the edge of panic that clawed at him as soon as he walked in; it took him a moment to realize it was Oikawa’s panic, not his own. He glanced around the shop as he made his way up to the counter, but nothing seemed amiss.

 

“Oikawa-san, if you would please stop tormenting your subordinates for a moment, I would like a latte,” Yuutarou said, leaning against the counter. Oikawa tore himself from his lecture with a smile and grabbed a cup for Yuutarou’s order, humming while Kyoutani rang it up. Yuutarou handed Kyoutani a few bills, watching Oikawa skip around his station as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

 

 _In the corner opposite from yours._ At Oikawa’s mental voice flooding Yuutarou’s senses, he looked up lazily. Sure enough, there at the table in the corner was Ushijima, his face serious as he read from a disgustingly thick book.

 

 _What about him?_ Yuutarou shot back, hiding his grin against his forearm. Oikawa gave Yuutarou a desperate glance.

 

 _He_ _’s wearing_ glasses _, Kindaichi_.

 

 _You know, it_ _’s always remarkable how you whining in my head is even more annoying then when you do it out loud._ Oikawa huffed and smacked Yuutarou’s cup down on the counter. He stared at Yuutarou, eyes wide, pleading for help that they both knew he wasn’t going to give. Yuutarou grinned, picking up the coffee, and made his way over to the armchair in the corner. He pulled out his sketchbook and pencil case and started sketching Ushijima, grinning at the wave of mental obscenities coming from Oikawa.

 

He grew bored of tormenting Oikawa eventually, his sketches becoming aimless doodles rather than intentional practice. He let his mind wander as he drew, flitting here and there as it would. He was halfway through reciting the species of plants that grew around campus when a shadow dropped over his page.

 

“That’s really good,” said Suga. Yuutarou jumped, glancing between him and the page while Suga laughed. Kunimi peeked back at him from two or three sketches, here a nose, there a fall of hair, his eyes peeking out from under his bangs, the graceful lines of his hands. He hadn’t realized that’s who he had been drawing.

 

“Oh, thanks,” Yuutarou stuttered. Suga smiled.

 

“Actually, do you know where he is?” he asked suddenly. “Kuroo said he was supposed to be here working on a project, but…”

 

“He’s sick,” Yuutarou said. “We were supposed to work on it today, but he got caught in the rain yesterday and caught a cold.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Kyoutani stiffen, but ignored him.

 

“Oh,” Suga said, blinking. “Wonder why Lev didn’t mention anything…” He trailed off, watching Yuutarou with eyes that were far, far too bright. Yuutarou shifted uncomfortably, tightening his grip on his mental walls. “Anyway,” Suga said, grinning, “when you see him again can you tell him to call me? I’m trying to set up a dinner, but getting all our friends to respond is like herding cats.”

 

“Sure thing,” Yuutarou said slowly. Suga smiled wider, floodlight-bright, and turned on his heel. Yuutarou watched him flounce away with a growing sense of unease.

 

“Sometimes I really hate him,” Oikawa muttered. Yuutarou jumped again, this time dropping his sketchbook.

 

“What _is_ it with people and sneaking up on me lately?” he hissed. Oikawa gave him a blank look and a slow blink, putting all his lack of concern for Yuutarou and his emotions into the gesture. Yuutarou rolled his eyes, not buying it for a moment.

 

“Tooru doesn’t hate him, he’s just unnerved by him,” Kageyama said, too loudly, from where he was wiping a table several feet away. Oikawa squawked, cheeks flooding with color. He locked eyes with Kageyama, and they began a furious, silent argument, bits and pieces of which floated along Oikawa’s connection to Yuutarou. Words like _pathetic_ and _hopeless_ and _shut up, Tobio-chan, if you_ _’re so smart why don’t_ you _ask him out?_ Yuutarou groaned softly and buried his face in his hands.

 

“Will you two please move your sexual tension somewhere else?” he muttered. Oikawa glanced at Yuutarou, then back at Kageyama, who raised an eyebrow.

 

“Don’t you dare, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa hissed. Kageyama crossed his arms.

 

“Then you do it,” Kageyama challenged.

 

“Maybe I will!” Oikawa sniffed.

 

“Will you?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“No you won’t.”

 

“Of course I will!”

 

“Prove it.”

 

“I will!”

 

“One week.” Oikawa stuttered to a stop, staring at Kageyama.

 

“W-what?” he stammered, looking around the shop wildly.

 

“One week,” Kageyama repeated. “You do it by the end of a week, or I will.”

 

“Fine!” snapped Oikawa. “Now- go clean the bathrooms or something, you’re pissing me off.” Kageyama shrugged, picking up his rag and cleaner and wandering into the back for more supplies. Yuutarou glanced around the cafe, at all the customers who were staring at Oikawa now. Ushijima was still reading his book.

 

“Are you two ever anything less than a spectacle?” he asked. Oikawa snorted.

 

“You have no idea,” he muttered. With a sigh, he rubbed at the back of his neck, looking utterly worn out. For a moment, he stood and stared at nothing, then he turned and smiled at Yuutarou. “Speaking of spectacles,” he purred.

 

“What.” Oikawa shrugged, draping himself across the sofa with a luxurious sigh.

 

“I just wanted to know what you and Suga-chan were talking about,” he said.

 

“You know damn good and well what we were talking about,” Yuutarou muttered. Oikawa shook his head.

 

“That’s one of the things that bugs me about him,” he said. “Whenever he’s around, I have a hard time hearing anyone. And then sometimes he intentionally blocks himself and whoever he’s talking to, so. No. I don’t know.”

 

“Oh. Well, it wasn’t anything important. He wanted to know where Kunimi was, so I told him.”

 

“Where _is_ Kunimi-chan?” Oikawa asked.

 

“He caught a cold,” Yuutarou replied. “Something about being in the rain yesterday.” Kyoutani fumbled the cup he was holding, shooting a glare in their direction when Oikawa barked out a laugh.

 

“Poor Kunimi-chan. He was always prone to that sort of thing.” Oikawa sighed again, all but melting into the couch. “Kindaichi, can I just stay here and not work and not study and not do anything at all ever again?”

 

“No,” Yuutarou replied. “But, if you get off your ass and back to work, I’ll give you the page I drew earlier.” Oikawa’s ears turned red, but he maintained his relaxed pose and held out an expectant hand. Yuutarou laughed, tearing the page carefully from his sketchbook and handing it over. Oikawa glanced at it.

 

“You are really good at this, you know that?” he murmured. Yuutarou shrugged.

 

“I’m alright,” he said. “Now get back to work.” Oikawa tucked the page carefully into his apron pocket and shoved himself to his feet. With a wink and a two-fingered salute, he sauntered away toward the back room, swaying his hips much more than necessary. Yuutarou pretended not to notice the way Ushijima watched him go. His phone buzzed insistently.

 

KUNIMI: [You left tea]

 

Yuutarou frowned at the message, trying decide if Kunimi was telling him or asking him.

 

ME: [Yes?]

 

KUNIMI: [You didnt have to do that]

 

Yuutarou smiled, warmth filling him like stepping out into summer sunshine. He settled more comfortably in his chair, pulling his legs up and resting the backs of his hands on his knees.

 

ME: [I wanted to.]

 

ME: [How are you feeling?]

 

KUNIMI: [Like I want to kill everyone and also myself]

 

ME: [If I bring you some dinner will you remove me from the kill list?]

 

KUNIMI: [Ill consider it]

 

KUNIMI: [What kind of dinner]

 

ME: [Any kind you want. I can bring you something from the Daily Grind, or I can stop by an actual store for real people food if you want.]

 

KUNIMI: [Fuck real people food]

 

KUNIMI: [I would kill a man for a caramel macchiato]

 

The warmth spread to Yuutarou’s fingertips and his cheeks began to ache from smiling so much.

 

ME: [One caramel macchiato, coming right up.]

 

-

 

Akira wasn’t there when it happened. They had been spending the day at the beach and Kageyama had suddenly remembered something he needed to buy, darting away to the shops while Akira stayed put. He dozed in the sun, taking in the sounds of the sea and the people that came with it, letting it all wash over him and lull him into a drowsy half-consciousness. His only clue that anything was amiss was the scream.

 

He was on his feet and running toward the commotion before he even registered why he was doing it. All he knew was that his heart was pounding and his thoughts were crashing and not all of the terror in his veins was his own. As he skidded around a corner, he could see the disturbance up ahead, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to stop, to turn around and run in the other direction. He grit his teeth and kept moving.

 

The thing about Kageyama’s magic was that he wasn’t just a powerful psychic. He didn’t use his telekinesis very often, too afraid that he would push too hard and tear the fabric of reality itself. Akira didn’t know if that was even possible, but the way the air seemed to ripple and dance across the sky was too close for comfort. Akira deliberately looked away, pushing through the fleeing crowd to get to the scene at its back.

 

Kageyama was huddled in the center of the chaos, because of course he was. He crouched with his hands fisted in his hair, rocking slightly back and forth while dust and debris flew around him in an oddly graceful cyclone. There was a wall of telekinetic energy around Kageyama, grinding against Akira’s bones and pushing him down, pushing him away. Oikawa was huddled against a wall nearby, staring in horror.

 

“What did you do?” snapped Akira as soon as he was close enough to be heard. Oikawa tore his eyes away from Kageyama to stare at Akira, face pale and eyes wide. Akira wanted to hate him, wanted to destroy him for all the pain he’d caused Kageyama, but just then all he could see was a scared boy, barely older than himself. He shook his head. “Get out,” he snarled.

 

“I-”

 

“Get out!” Oikawa squeaked, staring for a moment longer. Then he scurried away.

 

Akira turned to face Kageyama, the eye of the psychic storm, and steeled himself. The first step forward was agony. An invisible hand pressed down on Akira’s spine, squeezing it, making it groan with the wight. The second was worse. Akira reached for Kageyama, for the link between them, for anything that could help. A chair flew past, nearly knocking Akira off his feet. In the distance he could hear windchimes.

 

All at once the pressure ceased to affect him. He could still feel the pavement buckling under his feet, could still see all the debris flying through the air, but Akira walked as easily as ever. He closed the distance between them and crouched, wrapping his arms around Kageyama.

 

“Let me in,” he whispered fiercely. The world disappeared.

 

Kageyama was standing outside his grandfather’s beach house, staring at the unmoving sea. His face was smooth, free of any expression whatsoever, and his eyes were a storm.

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly. Akira resisted the urge to roll his eyes, stepping close enough to take Kageyama’s hand.

 

“Neither should you,” he said. Kageyama didn’t look away from the water.

 

“It’s my fault,” he murmured. “That’s what he believes. Is he wrong?”

 

“Of course he’s wrong,” Akira said. “You didn’t mean to do it.”

 

“But I did it,” Kageyama replied. “It happened because of me.”

 

“It did,” Akira sighed. “But that doesn’t mean he gets to punish you for it.”

 

“I’m scaring people.” Kageyama’s voice was soft, almost lost under the sound of his storm. Then there was no sound but the windchimes. “I’m ruining everything again. People will always be afraid of me.”

 

“Maybe,” Akira admitted. “There will always be people who don’t understand your affinity, or who are afraid of how much power you have.”

 

“If I could get rid of it, I would.” Akira smiled sadly.

 

“I know,” he said. “I probably would too.”

 

Kageyama looked at him, at last, and Akira’s heart broke at what he saw in Kageyama’s eyes. He wrapped an arm around Kageyama, pulling him close and breathing in the scent of his hair.

 

“Let it go,” he murmured. “You can do it. Just let it all go. Put it back, and there’s no damage done.”

 

The storm swelled for one infinite heartbeat, then settled, everything returning to its rightful place. The ground stopped its buckling, the sky stitched itself closed, and the boy huddled on the ground in Akira’s arms took a deep, shuddering breath. There was no one around, the streets of the little tourist town by the sea utterly deserted. Akira stood, and Kageyama stood with him.

 

It was a hollow silence that stretched between them as they walked back to Kageyama’s apartment. The farther they got from the beachside road the more people they encountered, until it was just like every other walk they’d taken since arriving. Two pariahs in a stream of concerned citizens. They reached the empty apartment without a single word. Kageyama followed Akira into the guest bedroom and curled up with his head tucked under Akira’s chin and their legs tangled together, just like they had on their first day here. Akira fell asleep breathing in the citrus-and-dust of Kageyama’s hair.

 

He dreamed of Kageyama leaving, of a whispered apology and a soft, tentative touch to his cheek. He dreamed of Kageyama walking back along the beach to a shrine on a hillside, where an old woman met him with a frown. He dreamed of an argument, of threats he and Kageyama and the old woman knew were empty, of the woman’s eventual acquiescence. He dreamed of Kageyama standing under the moonlight with a talisman in his hand and tears on his cheeks, wishing a part of himself away, crippling himself like he had crippled Oikawa all those years ago. He dreamed of floating, of a panicked flight with no tether to the ground below.

 

He dreamed of Kindaichi.

 

-*-


	21. Chapter 21

On Sunday Kunimi arrived to their test site wearing three scarves and a scowl. Yuutarou grinned, handing over a travel cup of coffee.

 

“You look amazing,” he said. Kunimi glared at him over the rim of his cup and declined to answer. Yuutarou’s smile softened somewhat, and he turned away to start taking before pictures of the field.

 

He didn’t really need to feed the grass any magic this time around, but he did anyway. It soothed a nervousness in him he hadn’t even noticed before, the green magic wrapping around his soul like an old favorite blanket. He smiled to himself, dotting the field here and there with clover.

 

“Having fun?” Yuutarou turned to smile at Kunimi, who was watching him with a fond light in his eyes. Yuutarou grinned.

 

“I love spring,” He admitted. “It feels like so long since the soil has been entirely awake, you know?”

 

“Not really,” Kunimi said with a shrug. He held out the notebook with the most recent version of their spell.

 

Yuutarou hummed to himself as he laid out the foundation for the spell, smiling when Kunimi added in his magic as well. He still loved the rush of warmth and the tingle of danger that came with allowing so much intimacy between them, but it was different now. Kunimi wasn’t some mysterious stranger now, he was Yuutarou’s friend. He had fallen asleep with his head on Yuutarou’s shoulder, made fun of Yuutarou’s hair, laughed at Yuutarou’s horrible jokes. He was a part of Yuutarou’s family now, part of the little cluster of misfits that gathered in the Daily Grind now and again. When Yuutarou looked at the sun burning in Kunimi’s heart, it didn’t feel foreign or too much for him to stare for too long. It felt like coming home.

 

Yuutarou watched from his place near the door as Kunimi burned the field again, smiling at the way his fire never left the confines of the little squares they had marked out. And when he jogged over to see the results, he smiled even wider.

 

“I think we can call that a success,” he said, looking at the lush green of the test box. The corner of Kunimi’s lip might have quirked up a bit, but it was gone too quickly to be sure.

 

“We’ll have to run the test again to be sure,” he said, even as Yuutarou started taking pictures.

 

“Oh, smile!” Yuutarou chided, shoving Kunimi’s shoulder lightly. “We did it!”

 

“Maybe,” Kunimi muttered, but Yuutarou saw the mirth dancing in his eyes. He pulled out his phone and the mirth died, replaced with irritation.

 

“What’s wrong?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi jumped, looking up at him and then away.

 

“Nothing,” he said. “Just a pest doing what he does best.”

 

Yuutarou laughed. “That rhymed!” he cried. Kunimi stared at him for a moment, eyes bright and mouth twitching like he was fighting back a smile.

 

“It did,” he acknowledged. “Shall we?” Yuutarou beamed at him and led the way toward the Daily Grind.

 

They didn’t make it to the coffee shop. They barely even made it out of the field before Sugawara waylaid them with an arm around each of their waists and a grin that looked like all of Yuutarou’s worst nightmares come true.

 

“Kunimi! Kindaichi!” he cried in his most sunshiney voice. “Just who I was hoping to see.”

 

“Sugawara-san,” stuttered Yuutarou, trying and failing to duck away. “How can we help you?”

 

“You’re so cute, Kindaichi-kun,” Sugawara said. “All polite and formal. I know for a fact Oikawa didn’t teach you that.”

 

“What do you want,” Kunimi asked flatly. Sugawara pouted.

 

“And here I was trying to save you,” he sniffed. “I could have just let you go, let _him_ find you, but no. I decided to be a good friend and senpai and spare you from a worse fate. And this is the thanks I get?”

 

“You would get better if you told me what you wanted,” Kunimi droned. Suga pouted for a moment, then shrugged lightly.

 

“I’m actually here for a kidnapping,” he said. “Kiti, Saeko, and Alisa are having a family dinner and you’re not getting out of this one.”

 

“If you want, I can type up our findings report while you go to dinner,” Yuutarou offered. Kunimi glared, mouthing _traitor_ at him over Sugawara’s head.

 

“Oh, no, you’re coming too,” Sugawara said pleasantly. “It’s not every day our Kunimi makes a real, actual friend. Everyone’s _dying_ to meet you.”

 

“I’m sure they are,” Kunimi grumbled.

 

“You’re not busy, are you?” Sugawara asked, blinking up at Yuutarou with those big brown eyes.

 

“I know what you’re doing,” Yuutarou huffed.

 

“It’s gonna work anyway,” Sugawara said. Yuutarou didn’t answer.

 

They ran into Kuroo as they passed the cafe. He folded himself into their little group with a grin and a hand in Kunimi’s back pocket. Kunimi gave him a glare and a long-suffering sigh, but otherwise didn’t protest.

 

“So, _Kindaichi_ ,” Kuroo purred, drawing out the vowels of Yuutarou’s name. “I was beginning to think you and I would never get to meet again! Aki-chan here was being so secretive about you.”

 

“Do not call me that,” Kunimi said flatly. Kuroo grinned at him, then turned those sharp eyes on Yuutarou.

 

“So?” Kuroo purred. Yuutarou suppressed a shiver at the edge of steel in his voice and pulled his mental walls tighter around himself.

 

“So what?” Yuutarou asked. Suga squeezed Yuutarou’s waist.

 

“Kuroo, leave him be,” he scolded. “He’s gonna have a hard enough time with everyone there. He doesn’t need you starting the interrogation early.”

 

Kuroo fell silent, but Yuutarou was still on edge as they walked up to the station just off campus. Kunimi flopped down on a bench to wait, and Yuutarou sat carefully next to him. With a huff, Kunimi reached over to lace their fingers together and squeezed gently. “You don’t have to do this,” he said softly.

 

“Do you not want me to come?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi shook his head.

 

“That’s not it,” he said. “I just. These guys are like my family. I told you how we all met when I was in middle school. But…”

 

“But?” Yuutarou prompted. Kunimi made a face.

 

“They’re just like any other family,” he said. “They’re loud and embarrassing and overbearing. They could eat you alive, or they could decide you’re one of theirs. And I honestly don’t know which way this will go.”

 

“If they love you as much as they seem to, it’ll be fine,” Yuutarou assured him. “They don’t want to do anything that will hurt you.”

 

“It’s not _me_ I’m worried about,” Kunimi snapped.

 

“Sure it is,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi gave him a puzzled look, but before he could explain, Kuroo gave a shout. Yuutarou watched in fascination as he bounded across the platform to throw himself at Kageyama and Yachi, wrapping his arms around them both. To Yuutarou’s amazement, they both hugged him back, Kageyama smiling and Yachi laughing.

 

The smile slipped from Kageyama’s face when he looked up to see Yuutarou sitting next to Kunimi. “What is he doing here?” he asked, and if Yuutarou didn’t know better he would have thought Kageyama sounded afraid.

 

“Suga,” was Kunimi’s answer. Sugawara glanced up from his conversation with Yachi and smiled.

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kageyama asked.

 

“It’ll be fine,” Suga said softly. “Everyone already knows to expect him.”

 

“Just because they expect him doesn’t mean they won’t-”

 

“Kageyama,” interrupted Suga, dropping a hand on Kageyama’s shoulders. “It’ll be fine. Right, Yacchan?”

 

“Right,” she said brightly. “Though, we should keep an eye on Haiba-kun…” Kunimi groaned, dropping his head back against the bench.

 

“I forgot about them,” he muttered.

 

“They’ll be heartbroken,” Kuroo said gleefully as their train rattled to a stop. Kunimi paused.

 

“Last chance to back out,” he said. “I’m not getting out of this one, but you can still run.”

 

“Nah,” Yuutarou hummed as he tugged Kunimi onto the train and over to an empty pair of seats. “This’ll be fun. It’s a good chance for me to learn all your embarrassing secrets.”

 

“On second thought, just kill me now.” Yuutarou laughed, squeezing Kunimi’s hand. Kunimi smiled briefly. He pulled his hand away carefully, so carefully, and settled it on his lap instead. Yuutarou turned away to look out the window at the shimmering lights of the portal as the train chugged through. One moment he was looking at the edge of the university campus, the next there was nothing but light and color, and the third, they were pulling into the main station at Sendai. Kunimi made a face at the sight and stood, looping his bag over his shoulder.

 

“Oh, don’t look so down,” Suga crowed. Kunimi rolled his eyes and stepped off of the train without answering. They fell into two rows, Kuroo, Yachi, and Suga in the front and Yuutarou, Kunimi, and Kageyama behind. Out of the corner of his eye Yuutarou saw Kunimi take Kageyama’s hand, and he wondered which one of them needed the support. He forced himself to look away, at the bustling neighborhood around them. As they walked the houses grew smaller, but friendlier. There were kids playing in yards, chasing each other with sticks and balls and snowballs, laughter coating the air like glitter. It was the kind of place where everyone was welcome, whether they wanted to be or not.

 

Kuroo led the way up a set of cracked concrete steps to the front door of a house that looked like it would barely fit all of them. He launched himself inside, shouting in delight at whatever he found there. Greetings spilled through the open door, loud and happy and growing louder and happier as each new person stepped inside. Finally, it was only Kunimi and Yuutarou left on the stoop.

 

“You ready for this?” Kunimi asked, staring at the door. Yuutarou worked up a smile.

 

“Not in the slightest” he said, and stepped inside.

 

His first thought was that the house must have been much bigger than it appeared from the outside. His next was that it still wasn’t big enough for the number of people gathered within. There was Kuroo and Yachi and Suga and Kageyama, but there was also Lev and a tall silver-haired girl who must have been their sister, and a short blonde woman, and a tall dark-haired woman, and a short boy with black-and-gold hair, and a man who looked like an owl, and a boy Yuutarou recognized from Oikawa’s study group, and Yuutarou couldn’t breathe. They were all talking, shouting over one another and laughing and slapping each other on the shoulders. There was so much noise, and not enough air, and Yuutarou as starting to feel dizzy.

 

“Hey.” All at once the noise dulled and Yuutarou could think again. He blinked up at the girl with the black hair, trying to place where he had seen her before. “You okay?”

 

“I’m,” Yuutarou said. He swallowed, blinking hard. “I think so?”

 

“You didn’t tell me he was coming,” the woman said, turning to Kunimi, who shrugged.

 

“Suga said he’d spread the word,” he muttered. “I didn’t even know I was coming until my escort showed up.” The woman laughed, loud and obnoxious. It made a smile tug at Yuutarou’s lips.

 

“I’m Kuroo Kiti,” the woman sad, holding out her hand to Yuutarou. “I take it you’ve met my little brother.

 

“Once or twice.” Yuutarou shook her hand, somehow unsurprised at the strength of her grip.

 

“Trust me, for him, that’s enough,” she laughed. “Welcome to the family, Kindaichi-kun.”

 

-

 

Kageyama was not in the bed when Akira woke, but he hadn’t really expected him to be. After such a tumultuous day, he knew Kageyama would react by withdrawing. Akira rolled over and pulled out what was left of his summer reading, determined to give Kageyama space until that night before he dragged him back. He snuggled down into his blankets, determined to finish the book that day.

 

None of the words stuck with him. He read his way through three chapters of the book without taking in any of it. Frowning, he turned back to the beginning of the section to try again. He stared blankly at the page.

 

Something was wrong. Akira had a feeling it was something to do with Kageyama, but though he could touch his side of their bond, he wasn’t a psychic. He couldn’t reach out on his own. Frowning to himself and preparing a _very_ crabby glare to shoot at Kageyama when it turned out he was fine, Akira kicked off the covers and stood.

 

“Kageyama?” he called softly as he knocked on the door across from his. “You in there?”

 

There was a shuffling on the other side, and the door opened. Kageyama stood in the doorway, wearing the same clothes he had been the day before. His face was pale and drawn, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He looked at Akira, then turned his eyes to the floor as though he couldn’t stand to see himself be seen.

 

“Kageyama, what’s wrong?” murmured Akira. Kageyama flinched. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was air and the slightest crack of voice. Akira stepped forward, wrapping his hand around Kageyama’s arm and guiding him into the room. Kageyama’s skin was cold, clammy like he had a fever. There was something wrong with the way it felt, something Akira couldn’t quite place. It was the same as the look in his eye, the distance there, the missing _something,_ an absence that made this someone other than the Kageyama that Akira had come to know. He shut the door behind him and eased Kageyama over to the bed. “Tell me,” he murmured. “Please.”

 

“I-” Kageyama broke off, looking at his desk. Akira followed his gaze to see a medallion sitting in a patch of sunlight. The light glinted off of the metal disk, refracting in its ornate design, but the stone in its center was dark and empty. Akira felt its pull in the pounding of his heart and the rise of goosebumps along his arms.

 

“What is that?” Akira whispered. Kageyama flinched again.

 

“Last night,” he croaked, his voice raw as if from long disuse. “Last night I went to the shrine on the hill.” Akira’s dream flashed behind his eyes, the one of Kageyama arguing with the old woman by the sea. He shoved it from his mind.

 

“What did you go there for?” he asked slowly, certain he didn’t want to hear the answer. Kageyama’s shoulders were stiff. Akira wanted to reach out to him, but for all that they were sitting bare inches apart, Kageyama had never felt so far away. “Kageyama, what happened at the shrine?”

 

“The priestess there is very old,” Kageyama said. He sounded like he was somewhere very far away, like his voice was echoing down a canyon wall to where Akira stood, straining to hear. There was no inflection, no emotion in his voice whatsoever and he stared straight ahead, at a blank patch of wall. “She’s been in that shrine as long as anyone in the town can remember, probably longer. People say it can’t be the same woman, because that would make her hundreds of years old, but I believe it. She’s very powerful.

 

“When I told her what I wanted, she called me a fool. She tried to send me home empty-handed, but I fought back. I told her I would bring down the shrine and turn it to dust if she didn’t help me. And then I told her that I wouldn’t do it because I wanted to, but because that’s what happens. I destroy things. Places. People. Doesn’t matter if I try not to, if I keep it all locked up inside. It always happens eventually.

 

“I think she saw how desperate I was. She was scared of me. They’re all scared of me. You would’ve been too, in time. Everyone always is. So she took me to the oldest part of the temple and took out that medallion. She told me not to do it, and that there would be consequences I couldn’t understand yet. But she also told me how, so a part of her must have wanted me to.”

 

“Kageyama,” Akira said quietly. He made himself reach out and take Kageyama’s hand, but the clamminess of his skin made him shudder. “Kageyama, what did you do?”

 

“The ritual had to be done by the sea,” Kageyama continued as if he hadn’t heard Akira. “Something about my soul’s home. I didn’t really understand what she was talking bout, but it kind of made me think of my grandpa’s cabin, and your forest. Probably not, though. It was easy, anyway. Just a few drops of blood and a prayer, under the moonlight, at the seashore. And that was it.”

 

“Kageyama.” He didn’t speak quietly now, didn’t bother with softness or calm. Akira barked the name, punctuating it with a sharp squeeze of his fingers around Kageyama’s. He reached out with his free hand to grip Kageyama’s far shoulder, turning him though he dropped his gaze and still wouldn’t look at Akira. “Kageyama, what did you go to the shrine for?”

 

“I… I wanted a way to get rid of my magic,” Kageyama said at last. He looked up at Akira with a light he had never seen before dancing in his eyes. It was manic, it was afraid, it was jubilant. “And I did. It’s gone. I’m not magical anymore.”

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, meet fan.


	22. Chapter 22

Yuutarou didn’t know if it was because he was a novelty or if they were always like this, but Kunimi’s little “family” stared at him like a bunch of buzzards waiting for a sickly animal to finally keel over so they could devour it.

 

The worst part was the ones who didn’t seem to know they were doing it. Lev watched him like he was their best friend and they wanted to hear everything he said. Kiti and Alisa watched him like they were waiting for a reason to swoop in and save him. Bokuto watched him like he was waiting to be amused. It was disconcerting to say the least, and Yuutarou couldn’t help but feel he couldn’t give them what they were looking for. At least Kuroo was waiting for Yuutarou to slip up, exactly like Yuutarou had expected.

 

“So Kindaichi, what are you majoring in?” he asked with a smile like a rusted blade.

 

“Herbal medicines,” Yuutarou answered. “My affinity is plant magic, so I figured I might as well major in something to do with that.” His phone buzzed as he spoke and he fished it out absently.

 

“Ooh, what was the first plant you grew?” asked Lev, leaning forward and pinning Yuutarou with sharp green eyes.

 

“I don’t really remember?” Yuutarou answered. “I think it might have been a daisy, though. Or something along those lines. Some garden flower.” Lev nodded enthusiastically as Yuutarou checked his unread messages.

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [Kindaichi help]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [I made a mistake]

 

Yuutarou frowned. It was probably nothing major, but there was always a chance Oikawa had gotten himself into serious trouble. He didn’t know when the next train back to campus was, so getting back quickly wasn’t all that likely.

 

ME: [Oikawa-san are you in actual trouble, or are you over-exaggerating things again?]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [I’m in real actual trouble here Kindaichi.]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [I have ruined any chance of ever wooing Ushiwaka for good.]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [I need to leave the prefecture.]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [Maye even the country.]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [I hear Norway is nice.]

 

“You grew up not far from here, right Kindaichi-san?” Yuutarou looked at Lev, not quite processing what they had said. Kuroo and Saeko were both glaring at them.

 

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked.

 

“I, uh, asked where you grew up,” Lev stuttered. “Were you born in the city?”

 

“Oh, no,” Yuutarou answered. “I actually grew up not far from here. Maybe an hour away?”

 

“So how did you end up in the city?” asked Alisa.

 

“I followed Oikawa-san,” Yuutarou said. His phone buzzed again. Speak of the devil. “He and I went to high school together for a year, and established a psychic link. Then when he went to university, rather than finding a new partner he just came home on the weekends for practice. I went to the same university so that he would have someone close by.”

 

“That… sounds dangerous,” Alisa murmured with a glance toward the kitchen where Tanaka and Kiti were bickering over dinner.

 

“It was,” Yuutarou agreed. “He had Iwaizumi-san there for some support, but it wasn’t enough. He came to me hardly able to function every week, and then went back on Monday morning to do it all over again. Someone had to save him from himself.” He glanced at Kageyama, smirking at the fond look on his face. “Anyway, I get the feeling most of you already know about me,” he said. “My turn.”

 

“What do you want to know?” asked Saeko with a gleam in her eye that made Yuutarou cautious and bold all at once.

 

“Everything,” he said.

 

“Everything?” she laughed. “That’s a lot of years to condense into one conversation.”

 

“So we’ll start, and whatever we don’t get to we can pick up another day” Yuutarou said. Saeko grinned wider.

 

“Kunimi, you gotta bring this kid around more often,” she crowed.

 

“If I had my way, _I_ wouldn’t be here so often,” he said.

 

“Oh yes you would,” Saeko scolded. “Now. Who wants to tell Kindaichi-kun the story of that time Kageyama and Kunimi got trapped in the closet in the staff lounge and had to pretend they were a ghost?” Kageyama and Kunimi both groaned and Yuutarou sat forward in his seat, laughing as Bokuto and Lev scrambled over each other to talk. Yuutarou’s phone continued to buzz, but since no one was calling him he ignored it, content to be a part of this family for one evening.

 

-

 

“That was nice,” Yuutarou said as he and Kunimi walked back to campus together. Lev had disappeared sometime after dinner and Kageyama and Yachi had left them at the station in favor of the cafe and the library, respectively, so it was just the two of them going back to the dorms. Kunimi smiled down at his shoes.

 

“It was,” he said. “They didn’t get through half the stories I thought they would, so I only want to die a little right now.”

 

“That’s good,” Yuutarou said with a grin. “I’d hate to be stuck here without you.” Kunimi didn’t reply, but he did smile up at Yuutarou and sigh in contentment. “I kind of don’t want to go home yet,” Yuutarou said softly.

 

“I kind of don’t either,” Kunimi agreed.

 

“You wanna do something irresponsible and probably against the rules?” Kunimi’s smile settled and his eyes flashed.

 

“Sure,” he murmured, reaching over to thread his fingers through Yuutarou’s. Yuutarou grinned and tugged him around a corner. “Where are we going?” Kunimi asked, and his voice sounded like laughter.

 

“You’ll see!” Yuutarou answered, tugging him along faster. They were running now, darting across the dark and mostly-deserted campus and laughing, to themselves, to each other, and to the night. They passed one or two straggling students and staff, and some of them laughed too, and some stopped to stare, and some turned away in disgust. The night felt electric, the darkness a blanket and a companion, the quiet a stage and audience waiting with bated breath to see what two young magi would do when the world was theirs and theirs alone.

 

Yuutarou opened the greenhouse door with the key he wasn’t technically supposed to have still, and pulled Kunimi inside with him. Here, the damp chill of the March night was replaced with humid summer, and Yuutarou hummed happily as he pulled off his jacket, dropping it and his bag on the table near the door. “What’s your favorite flower?” he asked over his shoulder as he set off down the aisle between tables laden with greenery.

 

“Dahlias,” Kunimi replied. Yuutarou nodded. It made sense, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. At last, he found what he was looking for and let out a triumphant laugh as he pulled the pot and sack of soil from under a table. He returned to the door with his load, grinning at Kunimi.

 

“Dignity and elegance, and the eternal bond between two people. Dahlias are tricky,” he said as he poured the soil into the pot, careful to only fill it so high. “The colors are difficult to get just right. Do you have a favorite?”

 

“R-red,” Kunimi answered. Yuutarou glanced up at him, but he was looking determinedly in another direction. The tips of his ears and the back of his neck were pink. Yuutarou shrugged.

 

“Strength, and grace under pressure,” he said as he pressed his fingers to the soil. “When given as a gift, it’s meant as a wish, a sharing of will between two people.” The soil began to glow with Yuutarou’s magic, and a single sprout poked through the surface. Yuutarou stuck his tongue out in concentration and the sprout shot up. The bud formed, and the flower bloomed, white petals brilliant in the darkness. “Oops,” Yuutarou muttered.

 

“What does the white one mean?” Kunimi asked.

 

“I think it’s focus?” Yuutarou said. “Staying true to a particular course of action? I could be totally making that up, though. I’ll have to check my flower dictionary.”

 

“You have a flower dictionary?” Kunimi snickered.

 

“Of course,” sniffed Yuutarou. “Only the most boorish of plant magi would be caught dead without one.” Kunimi’s snickering turned into quiet laughter hidden behind his palm, and Yuutarou grinned. “Okay, so it was a gift from Tsukishima. But it’s really useful sometimes!”

 

“I’m sure,” Kunimi said, and he was smiling now, his hand falling to his side, and Yuutarou reached out to tuck his hair behind his ear. It was an oddly familiar sensation, but Yuutarou didn’t dwell on it.

 

“For you,” he said, gesturing to the flowerpot. “Or if you like I can try again for a red one?”

 

“This one’s perfect,” Kunimi said, pulling the pot closer to him. He stroked one of the tiny petals, his smile going a little sad. “I’ll treasure it.”

 

“It’s just a flower,” Yuutarou muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 

“Maybe, but it’s a flower from you.” Across campus, the bell tower chimed the half-hour. “We should probably get going,” Kunimi murmured. “Class in the morning and all.”

 

“Yeah,” Yuutarou said. “Yeah, you’re right.” He pulled on his jacket and scooped up his bag, waiting for Kunimi to step out first before he closed the door and locked it behind them. He set off down the path with his hands tucked in his pockets.

 

“Hey, I have a question,” Kunimi said suddenly as they passed the cafeteria. Yuutarou hummed. “Why’s it so small?”

 

“What do you mean?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi lifted the pot slightly so that the bloom was at eye-level. It was about the size of Yuutarou’s fist.

 

“I mean normal dahlias are like three times this size,” he said. “Are all of your plants miniatures?”

 

“No,” Yuutarou said. “I don’t know why I’ve always made them smaller, but I have. They’re the right size to wear in someone’s hair like this.” He shrugged.

 

“I guess you’re right,” Kunimi said. His voice sounded strange, almost hollow, like he meant to say something else. They were almost at the dorms now. “A full size one wouldn’t fit in my room, anyway.” Yuutarou held the door open for Kunimi to go through first.

 

They parted ways at Yuutarou’s door with a quiet promise to see each other the next day. Yuutarou watched Kunimi shuffle down the hall for a moment before giving himself a mental shake and stepping into his room.

 

“There you are!” Yuutarou considered turning right back around, but Oikawa was too fast, springing off of the couch and grabbing Yuutarou by the forearm. “I’ve been waiting for you to get back for hours! I’m having a real crisis here, and you’ve been off what?” Oikawa paused, narrowing his eyes. “Off growing flowers for Kunimi-chan!”

 

“Oikawa-san, you are not having a real crisis,” Yuutarou said tiredly. He shook his arm free and bent to take off his shoes. Tsukishima’s were gone and his bed was empty.

 

“I am so!” Oikawa huffed, planting his fists on his hips. “But if you don’t want to help, then fine! I’ll just find someone who does care!” Yuutarou caught Oikawa around the waist as he tried to storm past, dragging him over to his bed with a sigh. He climbed up next to Oikawa, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes.

 

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me about your crisis.”

 

“I kind of don’t want to now,” Oikawa murmured. Yuutarou snorted.

 

“Fine,” he said. Oikawa pulled him a little closer.

 

“Why were you out with Kunimi?” Oikawa whispered.

 

“Got roped into a family dinner,” he said. “Then we went to the greenhouse.”

 

“Was it a nice date?” There was a smirk in Oikawa’s voice. Yuutarou snorted.

 

“Wasn’t a date,” he said. “I don’t do dates. Or crushes or any of it.”

 

“I’m sure,” Oikawa relented. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

 

“We’ll talk about _you_ in the morning too,” Yuutarou mumbled. Oikawa let out a fake snore and Yuutarou smiled, letting himself drift away.

 

-

 

“What do you _mean_ you’re not magical anymore?” hissed Akira. Kageyama’s skin burned under his hands and he pulled them away, afraid to hurt him. “Kageyama, what did you do?”

 

“I already told you,” Kageyama said with a frown. “I sent my magic away. It’s gone now.”

 

“What do you mean, it’s gone? Where did it go?” Kageyama frowned.

 

“It was supposed to go into that amulet.” They both looked at the medallion on the desk, at the hungry emptiness of the stone. There was no magic in it but its own.

 

“If it’s not there, then where…”

 

“Probably nowhere,” Kageyama interrupted. “It doesn’t really matter.”

 

“Of course it matters!” Akira snapped. “It’s your magic. Yours. You were meant to have it. And if it’s not in that amulet, then it could have ended up somewhere else. What’s to say someone else doesn’t have it now? What’s to say there’s not some poor person out there with no idea what’s happening or how to control it?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew that they were true. There was something tugging on the other end of the bond, something that Akira couldn’t reach. “Kageyama,” he said slowly. “I think something bad may have happened.

 

“Bad, how?” Kageyama asked absently. He was staring at the amulet, but Akira had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing it.

 

“Kageyama.” Akira reached out again and turned Kageyama to face him. “I need you to focus for me. Was anyone else around when you preformed the ritual?”

 

“No,” Kageyama said, furrowing his brow. “No, the beach was deserted.”

 

“Are you absolutely certain?” Akira insisted.

 

“Yes!” Kageyama shook off Akira’s hands. “There was no one else around. Why are you so wound up over this?”

 

“Magic can’t be created or destroyed,” Akira said. “If you removed it, it has to be somewhere, and it’s not in that amulet. Which means it’s either floating out there in the aether, or it’s latched onto someone and now they’re walking around with unfathomable psycho-telekinetic power and no idea how to control it.”

 

“But… what are the odds of that happening? It’s probably way more likely that it’s the first thing.” Kageyama looked so desperately like he wanted Akira to tell him he was right, that there was nothing to worry about. But another tug at the other end of the bond made Akira shake his head.

 

“I don’t think so,” he murmured. “I think we have a very big problem.”

 

“So, what do we do?”

 

Akira sighed. He looked out the window at the sweltering day and mourned the loss of a quiet afternoon spent reading. “Get dressed,” he said. “We need to find whoever has your magic, before they hurt someone.”

 

-

 

The streets were no different now than they had been any day before, but now Akira couldn’t help but feel they were leering at him, taunting him with something he couldn’t quite see. Passing stores glared at him with window eyes, their doorway maws threatening to swallow him whole. The people who swept aside and avoided eye-contact with Kageyama were no longer an irritation, they were a threat. Any one of these people could be harboring the most powerful psychic magic the world had ever seen, and Akira began to doubt he would have any way of knowing.

 

Just as he was getting ready to throw his hands up and scream, a flash of movement and a tug at his heart caught his attention. Akira turned, as if in a dream.

 

It had only been six months. Akira had tried to convince himself that a lifetime had passed since the winter benchmarks but it had only been six months since he had stood in the middle of a field and ruined everything. And now, turning to see the one thing he most dreaded, those six months felt like nothing at all.

 

Kindaichi’s hair was a windswept mess. His eyes were tired, but happy. He was wearing that stupid shirt his aunt had given him three birthdays ago, the one with the cartoon monkey. He’d grown, and his pants were too short, cutting above his ankles. His shoes were covered with sand. He was barely four meters away, just on the other side of the street.

 

Akira’s heart soared when he saw him, and plummeted. Something within him called out, straining toward the boy across the street, something Akira couldn’t identify. Underneath that tug there was another, more desperate, the same tug that had made him lean into Kindaichi’s side and smile at his terrible jokes and desperately wish he was as perfect as Kindaichi seemed to think he was. Then came the fear, the absolute certainty that if Kindaichi was nearby then he was in danger, danger from Akira, danger from-

 

And then Kageyama stopped and looked back at him, and Akira knew.

 

“N-no,” he whispered, staring at Kindaichi’s retreating back. It wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t have been this way. Akira had done everything he could, had cut himself off from his old life, from the one thing that had made everything worth it. He had done everything he was supposed to to keep his friend safe. By all rights, the universe should have honored that, should have left Kindaichi alone in its quest to torment Akira.

 

“Kunimi?” Kageyama’s voice sounded so very far away, drowning in the rush of emotion and psychic energy. Akira shook his head, turning to his friend.

 

“T-that boy there,” he whispered. “The- the one in the green shirt.”

 

“You sure?” asked Kageyama. Akira closed his eyes and nodded.

 

“His name’s Kindaichi Yuutarou. And he has your magic.”

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> APPARENTLY I HAVE WRITTEN THIS ENTIRE FIC WITHOUT KNOWING HOW BIG A DAHLIA IS. SO NOW THEY’RE MINI DAHLIAS. BECAUSE I AM NOT GOING BACK THROUGH 64 THOUSAND WORDS TO FIX ALL THE SYMBOLISM TO ANOTHER FLOWER.
> 
> EDIT: TURNS OUT MINIATURE BALL DAHLIAS ARE A THING AND THEIR BLOOMS ARE 2-3.5 INCHES IN DIAMETER TAKE THAT NANA


	23. Chapter 23

Yuutarou woke with not one clingy psychic in his bed, but two. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, wondering exactly how this had become his life.

 

“What are you doing here?” he snarled. Kageyama grunted and nuzzled closer.

 

“You have my boyfriend,” he said.

 

“So take him and get out of my bed.” Oikawa stirred on Yuutarou’s other side, clinging tighter to him.

 

“Nooooo, Kindaichi, don’t make me leave!” Yuutarou closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 

“If the two of you do not get off of me in the next five seconds, I will pee in this bed, and I won’t be sorry about it.” Both psychics snatched their arms away, Oikawa rolling off the bed to clear the way for Yuutarou to stumble into the bathroom.

 

When he returned, Kageyama had Oikawa curled in his lap on the couch running his fingers through Oikawa’s atrocious bedhead. Yuutarou flopped into the free space near their feet. “So. Why did the two of you decide to invade my bed last night?”

 

“Mfeh,” was the only response. Yuutarou jabbed a toe into Oikawa’s spine.

 

“Come on,” he said. “You’re supposed to be at work right now, and I have class in an hour. Talk.”

 

“Don’t wanna,” Oikawa muttered into Kageyama’s shoulder.

 

“Fine. Kageyama, talk.” Both Kageyama and Oikawa ignored Oikawa’s Whine of Offended Protest.

 

“He tried to seduce Ushijima,” Kageyama said.

 

“Oh boy. How’d that go.” Judging from Kageyama’s smirk and Oikawa’s increasing volume, not well.

 

“He went to the library in a suit and tie and asked Ushijima if he came there often.” Yuutarou bit his tongue to keep from snorting.

 

“What happened?” Yuutarou asked, and even he could hear the laughter dripping from his voice. Oikawa emerged from Kageyama’s shirt enough to glare at him.

 

“Exactly what you would expect,” Kageyama said. “Ushijima told Tooru that he worked there and then got worried that there was something wrong with Tooru and offered to escort him to the infirmary.”

 

“Did they find out what was wrong?” Oikawa threw a pillow blindly in Yuutarou’s direction. It knocked Tsukishima’s desk lamp over. “Is this the crisis you were whining about last night?”

 

“Yes!” cried Oikawa, whirling around to glare at Yuutarou and almost knocking Kageyama off the couch. “It’s a serious problem! He was supposed to be charmed, not concerned for my mental health!”

 

“Everyone is concerned for your mental health,” Kageyama muttered.

 

“Remember, Tobio-chan, you are the one who has signed up for this shitshow.”

 

“There were signups?” Yuutarou asked. “I don’t remember signing anything. Can I un-sign up?”

 

Oikawa whined wordlessly, planting his face back into Kageyama’s shirt. “Why does no one love me?” he sobbed.

 

“We do love you,” Kageyama soothed. “You are the only one who doesn’t understand that.”

 

“Anyway, you’ve got what, three more days left in your bet? Four?” Yuutarou got another whine in response. “You might want to stop complaining and try again.”

 

“I can’t just _try again,_ ” Oikawa snapped. “I ruined it! I blew my chance! Ushiwaka thinks I’m a moron now.”

 

“Sure he does,” Kageyama muttered. Oikawa flopped backwards until he was spread across all the couch space and both laps available to him.

 

“Kindaichi, can I come with you to your art class today?” he sighed. “I’m emotionally fragile.”

 

“As long as you behave yourself and don’t offer to model nude again,” Yuutarou said. Kageyama looked up sharply.

 

“What was that?” he growled.

 

“Nothing,” Oikawa chirped. “Anyway, Tobio-chan you have work to be getting to, and we have an art class to attend. Off you go!” Kageyama left, grumbling the entire time under his breath. Yuutarou shook his head.

 

“I still don’t see what either of them sees in you,” he mumbled.

 

“Believe me,” Oikawa said as he rifled through Yuutarou’s shirt drawer. “I don’t either. Hand me my binder.”

 

-

 

Oikawa was always a big hit in Yuutarou’s art classes, largely because most of the girls he flirted with were gay and knew he was too. He gossiped and complimented and charmed his way into all of their good graces with ease.

 

Watching him, Yuutarou wondered how so much insecurity could linger under the confident veneer. Surely, Oikawa had to know how much people liked him.

 

“Aww, Kindaichi, you’re sweet,” Oikawa purred, coming to drape himself across Yuutarou’s shoulders. Yuutarou pictured taking his pencil and stabbing it into Oikawa’s eye, but it wasn’t enough to deter him. “Hey, Kindaichi, your guy’s missing a limb there.”

 

“He’s supposed to be,” Yuutarou said, pointing to the reference photo clipped to his drawing horse. Oikawa hummed, tilting his head. He eased some of his weight off, letting Yuutarou go back to his shading. His mind was chaos.

 

 _I bet if you show Kunimi-chan some of your drawings he_ _’d be more than charmed._ Yuutarou rolled his eyes.

 

“You’re deflecting, Oikawa-san,” he said without looking up from his work.

 

 _And you_ _’re no fun,_ Oikawa returned. _The point of a secret conversation is that it_ _’s secret Kindaichi._

 

“Is that so?”

 

Oikawa scoffed. _Of course it is. Now, Kunimi-chan_ _’s not easy to impress, but he also doesn’t think much of himself, so-_

 

“Oikawa-san, please don’t give me unwanted relationship advice when you can’t even figure out your own love life.” Some of the girls tittered. Yuutarou took pity on him. _You know I_ _’m not interested in him that way. I’m not interested in anyone that way._

 

_How long are you going to insist on lying to yourself, Kindaichi?_

 

 _How long are you going to keep pretending Ushijima-san doesn_ _’t like you back?_ Oikawa was glaring at him. Though he couldn’t see it, he could feel its heat on the back of his head. _All you have to do is ask, Oikawa-san._

 

 _It_ _’s not that easy and you know it._ Oikawa leaned his forehead on Yuutarou’s back and took a deep breath. _Nothing involving me is ever easy._

 

“That doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” Yuutarou murmured aloud. He reached back to squeeze Oikawa’s knee gently before going back to his drawing.

 

-

 

Kunimi arrived to the last of their small-scale tests later that day looking harassed and murderous, still wearing the name tag from his job at the big department store not far from campus. Yuutarou wordlessly handed him a cup of coffee, grinning at the way his eyes softened in gratitude.

 

“Okay,” Kunimi said after he had taken a long pull. “Did Ito-sensei say when he was going to be here?”

 

“Should be any minute,” Yuutarou replied, checking his watch. “I told him six, and it’s almost six-thirty.” Kunimi nodded and pulled his notebook out of his bag to go over the spell one last time while Yuutarou took the before pictures. As he was finishing up, the professor arrived in a flurry of motion and flapping coat tails.

 

“Sorry I’m late boys,” he puffed. Yuutarou grinned.

 

“You’re right on time, Sensei,” he said. Kunimi elbowed him.

 

“Don’t you snark me,” Ito-sensei warned, shaking a finger at Yuutarou. He dropped his bag from his shoulder and pulled out a tripod. “Where would be the best place to set up the camera?”

 

While Kunimi showed him, Yuutarou looked at the notebook. There were only a couple of changes to the spell this time, a tweaking of the barrier portion and a shifting of the pattern. It looked clean and professional, like something out of one of their textbooks. Yuutarou didn’t try to fight the swell of pride at what they had created. He watched Kunimi help the professor set up the camera. The gathering sunset glowed in Kunimi’s pale skin, making him look like the creature of fire that he truly was. He glanced up at caught Yuutarou staring, and for some inexplicable reason his cheeks turned red. Yuutarou furrowed his brow, hoping Kunimi could read the question in his eyes. Whether he could or not, Kunimi just shook his head and led the professor back over to their starting point.

 

“Well, let’s see what you’ve got,” said Ito-sensei, clapping his hands. Yuutarou took a deep breath and dropped the notebook into Kunimi’s bag on the ground. He stepped up beside Kunimi, who nodded.

 

The first time they had done this Yuutarou had blushed at the intimacy of it. He had thought he was embarrassed then, by virtue of doing something like this with Kunimi. Now, he knew what embarrassment truly was.

 

His focus was slipping, catching on Ito-sensei’s presence rather than staying on Kunimi and the field and the magic they wrought therein. He thought he heard Kunimi sigh, just faintly, and then there was a warm hand slipping into his.

 

It was much the same as when he shared memories with Oikawa. He was still in the field, still surrounded by the grass and the trees and the darkening sky. But he was also somewhere else entirely, somewhere that existed only between himself and Kunimi. He could see the sun-core of Kunimi’s magic roiling in his chest, and he could see his own as well, a ball of green and blue and the scent of spring. In front of them he could see the spell, green and yellow and red and blue, an interweaving of their magics and that of the field and the world around them. For a moment, Yuutarou’s breath caught in his throat. His hand flickered up to rest over the glass pendant beneath his shirt and everything sharpened even more. His hand trembled and Kunimi gripped it tighter. They drew the spell to a close.

 

For a single heartbeat, time stood suspended and infinite and Kunimi and Yuutarou held each other’s hands. The world was much larger - and at the same time much smaller - than it ever had been. Then Kunimi dropped Yuutarou’s hand and the sensation faded.

 

“Well, it certainly _looked_ impressive,” Ito-sensei said, snapping Yuutarou out of his daze. “Let’s see if it worked, shall we?”

 

“Would you mind standing against the wall with Kindaichi, sensei?” Kunimi asked. “As a precaution.”

 

Ito-sensei agreed. Yuutarou scooped up the bags and led the professor to stand by the wall. Together they watched Kunimi set the field ablaze.

 

“I didn’t believe it at first, when they told me how powerful he was. A class seven fire mage, the rumor was.” Ito-sensei said it quietly, almost as though he wasn’t talking to Yuutarou at all. “Of course, faculty are human too, and humans love to gossip. The rumors weren’t even about him directly. He was just mentioned, Kunimi Akira, the class nine psychic’s dog. Any truth to that one?”

 

“I don’t know what class Kageyama is, but Kunimi’s his partner,” Yuutarou said. “I get the feeling Kunimi is much more than he likes to let on.”

 

“It would seem all of you are,” Ito-sensei agreed. “I had Oikawa in my class a few years ago, and that little red-haired siren last semester. The whole lot of you are just swimming in rumors, do you know that?”

 

“Sensei?” Yuutarou looked down at the professor, but he only shook his head. Kunimi waved the all-clear, and Ito-sensei bustled off to take a look.

 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he puffed when he saw the pristine state of the grass. “It seems you boys have pulled something off here. I’ll send an email to my colleague at the wildlife preservation department, and we’ll see if we can’t get you set up with them for a bigger test.”

 

Ito-sensei prattled on about how impressed he was by them, how no one else had exemplified the heart of the project this well, how they were going to do great things. Yuutarou only half-listened to him. Kunimi was trying to catch is eyes, a question written across his face, but Yuutarou only shook his head. He had a sinking feeling that Kunimi and Kageyama weren’t the only ones who knew more about him than he did himself.

 

-

 

Kageyama took off after Kindaichi as soon as Akira confirmed it, but Akira was still rooted to the spot. Kindaichi was turning around, listening to Kageyama with a furrow in his brow, and Akira couldn’t breathe. He could only watch his friend, his worst nightmare come to life, as he brushed his hair out of his face and frowned. And then Kageyama was gesturing back at Akira, and Kindaichi was looking up, and the whole damn world was collapsing around him. Warring emotions threatened to drown him as Kindaichi’s face lit up then grew dark once more.

 

He saw it all. The joy at seeing Akira again. The confusion. The anger, the betrayal.

 

The fear.

 

Kindaichi’s fear stabbed into the badly-healed wound in Akira’s heart and tore it to pieces once more. Kindaichi saw Akira’s intention an instant before he turned to run. Dimly, Akira wondered if it was Kageyama’s magic tattling on Akira, or if Kindaichi really just knew him that well. Another part of him knew that trying to outrun Kindaichi was pointless. But the loudest voice in Akira’s head was the sound of his own panic screaming at him to get away, no matter what. Running would mean he couldn’t hurt Kindaichi. Running would mean they were both safe.

 

He wasn’t sure how he made it to Kageyama’s apartment without Kindaichi catching up, but he threw himself into the guest room and locked the door without thinking too hard about it. His head was screaming in equal parts pain and terror as he collapsed to the floor, his back against the bed. He pulled out his phone, desperate for _someone_ , though he had no idea who. He scrolled through his contacts almost at random, tapping on the first name that jumped out at him.

 

“Yeah-lo,” purred a voice on the other line when the call picked up. Akira frowned.

 

“Kuroo-san, where is your sister?” he asked. He could almost see Kuroo smirking.

 

“She’s a little, ah, occupied at the moment,” he said. “What can I do you for, Kunimi-kun?”

 

Akira considered. This wasn’t the Kuroo he had meant to call, but he was still older and more experienced than Akira, and probably every bit as smart as his sister. And he was a psychic. “I have an entirely hypothetical question for you,” Akira said slowly.

 

“Well, hypothetically ask away then,” Kuroo said. Akira knew he didn’t believe him. He asked anyway.

 

“If, say, a powerful mage were to preform a ceremony to transfer their magic into an amulet, but then the amulet was empty, and it turned out the magic had been transfered to another mage instead, do you know if there would be a way to put it back?” He said it all in a rush, and for a moment, Kuroo was silent.

 

“Damn, we let you kids out of our sights for one week and you manage to get up to better shenanigans than Kouta and I have managed in four years.”

 

“Kuroo, do you know anything or not?” Akira snapped.

 

“Alright, calm down,” Kuroo muttered. “Which one of you was the idiot this time?”

 

“Kageyama,” Akira answered. Kuroo swore.

 

“Well, first thing’s first, you’re gonna have to reestablish the bond,” Kuroo said. “That kid’s magic is not something that can just exist unsupported. Whatever poor sap’s stuck with it is in some pretty serious danger right now.” As if to give credence to Kuroo’s warning, the pain in Akira’s skull flared suddenly. “Kunimi?”

 

“I may have screwed up,” Akira whispered. He could hear Kuroo shifting on the other end of the line, and then the faintest of nudges nearly toppled him over.

 

“Oh, it’s that kid,” Kuroo murmured. “That one you ran away from.”

 

“Kuroo, how-”

 

“If I can hear your voice I can get bits and pieces,” Kuroo said absently. “Kunimi, listen to me. If you want to help your friend, if you want to avoid hurting him even more than you ever could on your own, you need to help him through this. Kageyama’s magic will kill him.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Akira breathed. But the pain in his skull was multiplying, and he could hear voices at the front door.

 

“Kunimi,” Kuroo called. “Kunimi!” Akira dropped the phone, staring blankly at the door.

 

“Kunimi!” This time the voice was outside the guest room, and it did not belong to Kuroo. “Kunimi, open the door.”

 

Akira stood, though he wasn’t sure how he did it. As if in a dream, he unlocked the door and pulled it open to reveal Kageyama. Frantic blue eyes bore into Akira.

 

“You brought him here, didn’t you?” Akira whispered.

 

“We didn’t have a choice,” Kageyama replied. We? Akira looked down the hall at the shadows moving around. One of them passed the mouth of the hallway: one of the boys who had been with Oikawa the first time they’d seen him. He disappeared toward the kitchen, then returned a moment later with a bottle of water. Akira could hear him talking and someone else answering. There was another stab of pain through Akira’s head.

 

“Tobio, I don’t care if you have to drag him, get his ass in here!” Kageyama looked at Akira for a moment, then lunged for his wrist. He didn’t have to do much dragging, since Akira followed along when he pulled. They entered the living room, and there was Kindaichi on the couch, and there was Oikawa and his friend, and then Akira was collapsing.

 

He could hear the panic in the living room still, but it was almost entirely drowned out by the sound of windchimes. Akira was facing the sea. He heard a gasp and slowly turned to see its source.

 

“Kunimi,” Kindaichi whispered, half-reaching for him. “Kunimi, is that really you?” Kindaichi’s eyes were wide and terrified, and he flinched when the windchimes clanged a little louder than usual. Akira had never wanted to see him again, had hoped for it with every fiber of his being. It was the reunion he had dreamt of and dreaded, and it was all wrong. Kindaichi was trembling, but it wasn’t Akira he was afraid of. It wasn’t Akira who was putting him in danger this time. So even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around Kindaichi’s wrist.

 

“I’m here,” he whispered.

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the official 1/3 point of this story :D


	24. Chapter 24

The cafe was supposed to be a refuge. It was supposed to be Yuutarou’s space away from all the drama of his life, the stress heaped on him by his roommate and his classes and his questionable choice in friends. But instead he was busy trying not to listen to Oikawa scream inside his head while Ushijima sipped his coffee at the table across the cafe.

 

 _Yelling at me isn_ _’t going to do anything about it_ , he snapped. _Talk to him._

 

 _Talk to him_ , Oikawa mocked. _Just talk to him, Oikawa-san. I_ _’ll talk to him when you talk to Kunimi-chan._

 

 _There_ _’s nothing-_ Yuutarou rolled his eyes. _Oikawa-san, stop deflecting and go talk to him. Ask if he wants a refill, and then start a conversation._ Oikawa glared at Yuutarou and sent Yahaba to check on Ushijima’s refill. Yuutarou sighed and turned back to his sketchbook.

 

“I thought you were supposed to be doing homework.” Yuutarou grunted in acknowledgment as Kunimi flopped into his normal place on the couch.

 

“I thought you were supposed to be at work,” he said.

 

“Traded shifts,” Kunimi answered. Yuutarou looked up at him, only to stop short.

 

“You’re glowing,” he said.

 

“New skincare regimen,” Kunimi muttered. “Consisting of a customer getting irate and knocking over an entire display of fairy dust to prove her point. Apparently enough of it turns you green and mildly bioluminescent.”

 

“Does it wear off?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“I’ll let you know.” Yuutarou snorted and Kunimi smiled at him. There was almost no sign of the steel wall left in his eyes, only fond amusement. Yuutarou’s cheeks felt oddly warm as he looked away.

 

 _Show him your sketchbook_ whispered Oikawa’s voice in his head.

 

 _Why is this so important to you?_ Yuutarou snapped.

 

 _Because I have two thousand yen riding on you,_ Oikawa replied. _Show him._

 

 _If I do, do I get the two thousand?_ Yuutarou asked.

 

 _Five hundred,_ Oikawa said.

 

_Five hundred and a free coffee._

 

_Deal._

 

Yuutarou glared across the shop at Oikawa for a moment then turned to face Kunimi. “I am being used,” he muttered.

 

“Used how? You know there are resources. Hotlines and things that you can call if you’re in crisis.” Kunimi didn’t look up from his phone or bother putting any inflection in his voice. Yuutarou snorted.

 

“Oikawa-san wins a bet and I get free coffee if I make you look through my sketchbook,” he said. Kunimi looked up at him slowly, the lightest tinge of pink on his features.

 

“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” he said quietly.

 

“Oh, I know,” Yuutarou said with a roll of his eyes. “I just want the free coffee. I can’t really afford to come here as often as I do.”

 

“If you’re sure.” There was something soft about Kunimi’s voice, wistful almost.

 

“Hey,” Yuutarou murmured. “You know, you don’t have to do this either. If you don’t want to. It’s just a dumb sketchbook.” Kunimi’s eyes flashed, steel and fire in a roiling sea of grey-blue. He held out his hand silently, an offering but not a demand. Yuutarou handed over the sketchbook without a word.

 

As soon as it was in Kunimi’s hands Yuutarou regretted it. The sketchbook was no where near his best work, more random doodles and lightning-quick scene studies, nothing that he had put actual effort into. He was afraid, suddenly, that Kunimi wouldn’t be impressed. He wanted him to be impressed.

 

But Kunimi was just turning the pages slowly, looking over each one with a slow and thoughtful study. Yuutarou knew for a fact there was nothing in there to merit such attention. A few of the hand sketches were pretty good, and Kunimi paused over one of them, tracing his fingertip along the ridge of a tendon. It bore a remarkable similarity to Kunimi’s own hands, though younger, belonging to a child. Yuutarou had sketched them from imagination. Kunimi moved on quickly.

 

“You’re very good,” Kunimi said when he reached the last page, the rough start to a portrait of the man sitting at the table next to Ushijima’s.

 

“I’m okay,” Yuutarou murmured. Kunimi shook his head.

 

“No, you’re really good,” he insisted. He handed the sketchbook back to Yuutarou, and his hand seemed to be trembling. There was something warm fluttering in Yuutarou’s chest, and it got warmer and the fluttering got stronger when Kunimi glanced up at him and then away. “I have to go.”

 

“Everything okay?” Kunimi nodded, bending to pick up his bag.

 

“Yeah,” he said, not even trying to make it sound like anything other than the lie it was. “I’m just gonna go see if this washes off.” And with that he was gone, leaving Yuutarou bewildered and a little worried.

 

 _Happy now?_ Oikawa sighed and put down the rag he was using to clean the counter, coming over to stand by Yuutarou’s chair. Yuutarou flipped through the sketchbook, looking for what could have gotten Kunimi so upset.

 

 _I didn't know he would react like that,_ Oikawa said as he put a hand on Yuutarou’s shoulder. _There_ _’s more to that than meets the eye._

 

 _There_ _’s more to everything than meets the eye._ Yuutarou dropped his head into his hands and groaned. _Everyone knows my secrets except me._

 

 _If it_ _’s any consolation, I only know some of them._ Oikawa ruffled Yuutarou’s hair, clearly trying to muss the style. _There_ _’s something I’ve forgotten too._

 

“What does that mean,” Yuutarou asked aloud. Oikawa shrugged.

 

_If I knew, I would tell you. Probably. But there_ _’s a hole in my memory too, right around the time I first met Kunimi-chan. It’s nicer than your hole, though, so that’s a plus._

 

“For you or for me?” Oikawa laughed, loud and bright, and both Kageyama and Ushijima stopped what they were doing to watch him. He didn’t notice either of them.

 

 _What_ _’s good for my brain is always good for yours, Kindaichi._ Yuutarou shook his head.

 

 _I could do without your romantic fantasies playing in my dreams,_ he muttered. Oikawa turned red and sputtered for a moment before stomping off behind the counter while Yuutarou laughed. _You still have two days to make that picnic a reality_ , he called after him. Oikawa squawked and scrambled into the kitchen, as though the swinging door could sever their psychic link.

 

“You shouldn’t bully him like that,” said Kageyama.

 

“Oh, you enjoyed every minute of that, admit it.” Kageyama only shrugged and went back to the latte he was making. Yuutarou closed his sketchbook and leaned back in his chair. He glanced over at Ushijima who was busy glancing at Kageyama. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and opened a groupchat.

 

ME: [Theoretically]

 

ME: [Theoretically, mind]

 

ME: [If I were to have a crush on someone, how would I know?]

 

ICE BITCH: [Theoretically why the fuck should I care]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [Kei dont be mean!]

 

YAMAMAMA: [Tsukki don’t be a dick. We all know you care.]

 

YAMAMAMA: [Kindaichi, what’s up?]

 

ME: [Theoretically I might have a crush.]

 

As soon as he sent the message he wished he could take it back. But there was no undoing it. Hinata and Yamaguchi had all the power they needed now, and it didn’t seem like Yachi was around for damage control. Distantly he noticed Kageyama sitting down on the couch, apparently on his break.

 

YAMAMAMA: [What makes you think that?]

 

Yuutarou frowned. This was why he had always wondered if his friends were making up their crushes and attractions. Nothing about their descriptions made sense, but there was no changing the fact that there was something warm and fluttery in Yuutarou’s chest and it would not be ignored any longer.

 

“Wait, you have a crush on someone?” Yuutarou started, turning to stare at Kageyama who was frowning down at his phone.

 

“No!” It wasn’t a squeak. Yuutarou did not squeak. He scrolled to the top of the groupchat to find that it was the one for their economics class, the one that included Kageyama, and not the older one without him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

 

“But you just-”

 

“Gotta go!” Yuutarou interrupted, grabbing his bag. “See you tomorrow!” He scrambled out the door, pulling up the correct groupchat as he went.

 

ME: [SHIT KAGEYAMA IS IN THAT OTHER CONVERSATION]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [Why does it matter]

 

YAMAMAMA: [KINDAICHI DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON KAGEYAMA]

 

ME: [OF COURSE I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON KAGEYAMA]

 

ICE BITCH: [Are you going to be getting to the point soon?]

 

ME: [Hang on I gotta make sure I’m out of range.]

 

SHE DESERVES BETTER: [Kindaichi-kun are you okay??????!!!!!!]

 

ME: [I’m fine, Yachi-san]

 

ME: [I just need some advice is all. I don’t have any experience with this sort of thing.]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [Okay but kageyama though why]

 

ME: [I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON KAGEYAMA]

 

ICE BITCH: [Yikes]

 

YAMAMAMA: [There is no need to yell Kindaichi]

 

ME: [I hate you all]

 

ME: [Not you Yachi-san]

 

ME: [But the others. I hate you.]

 

SHE DESERVES BETTER: [Just tell us what’s going on.]

 

Yuutarou took a deep breath. He was walking through the tree-filled part of campus just outside his dorm building. It looked more like a park than a campus, hemmed in by a street on one side, the dorms on two more, and the back of the criminal justice building on the fourth. Yuutarou dropped into a bench and considered.

 

ME: [I don’t know if it’s really a crush, you know? I like being around him and I enjoy being his friend. But it feels different than with any of you?]

 

ME: [And it’s not like Tsukishima described it that time he got drunk at Yamaguchi’s twentieth birthday party, all mush and weepy and promising to spend the rest of his life with Hinata]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [Aw Kei!!!!!]

 

ICE BITCH: [Thanks for that]

 

ME: [And I definitely don’t think I want to have sex with him or anything. I just want to spend more time around him? And it makes me happy when he’s happy? And sometimes when he looks at me or touches me there’s this warm tight feeling in my chest but when other people talk about it it always sounds like heartburn and this doesn’t feel like heartburn and maybe I’m reading too much into this but earlier today I made him upset and I kept thinking that I would literally rather chop off my own leg than do that and I don’t know what’s happening to me??????? Help.]

 

There was a long pause while everyone read his text, and then a longer one while they processed it. Yuutarou was at once grateful and annoyed that he couldn’t see their reactions in person. He waited.

 

YAMAMAMA: [Dude]

 

YAMAMAMA: [You’ve got it bad]

 

ME: [Do I?]

 

SHE DESERVES BETTER: [It sure sounds like a crush, Kindaichi-kun.]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [KINDAICHI HAS A CRUSH!!!!!]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [But on Kageyama! Ew!]

 

ME: [How many times do I have to say I do not have a crush on Kageyama]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [Well then who DO you have a crush on?????]

 

Yuutarou looked up at the leaves above him, rustling in the wind. If he let his mind drift enough, he could almost imagine a voice in the rustle, the trees whispering the answers to him. He closed his eyes, and the illusion broke.

 

ME: [It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.]

 

Yuutarou switched off his phone before the inevitable storm could reach him and pulled out his economics notes.

 

-

 

“Where are we?” Kindaichi’s voice was smaller than Akira had ever heard it. He stroked his thumb along the bones of Kindaichi’s wrist.

 

“It’s called a psychic landscape,” he murmured. “This is the place where Kageyama’s psychic magic manifests when I’m involved. It’s a meeting place, I guess.” Kindaichi looked around, at the unmoving sea and the motionless hillside.

 

“Is it real?” he asked.

 

“As real as any thought,” Akira replied. “How much did Kageyama explain?” Kindaichi frowned. His eyebrows drew close together and he looked like an old man in a twelve-year-old’s body. He sat on the porch and Akira stood in front of him, still holding his wrist.

 

“He said I had his magic?” Kindaichi looked at Akira. “How can I have someone else’s magic? And how can I be here if it’s his place?” In the distance there was the echo of a shout. Both Akira and Kindaichi looked toward the noise, but it was lost under the windchimes.

 

“Kageyama is an incredibly powerful psychic and telekinetic,” Akira said. “He’s my roommate at school. And he was having these nightmares. So I signed on as his partner.”

 

“Kunimi, that’s-”

 

“Don’t you dare say dangerous,” Akira interrupted. “I know exactly how dangerous he is. No one knows that better than me. But he needed help and I could help him. You would have done the same thing.” Kindaichi was silent. Akira bit back a sigh and sat next to him on the porch “Anyway, the point is he tried to get rid of his magic by transferring it to an amulet. But the containment spell didn’t work or something, because instead of going into the amulet it found its way into your body instead. So we’re here because his magic is trying to protect itself by keeping you mostly alive, and it’s doing that by trying to get ahold of me.”

 

“That’s…” Kindaichi trailed off. Somehow their hands had slipped until their fingers were linked together on Kindaichi’s knee. He frowned. “You’re not warm here,” he said. Akira shook his head.

 

“I wouldn’t be,” he said. “I’m just a projection of my own psyche here, filtered by Kageyama’s magic.” He leaned his head against Kindaichi’s shoulder and sighed.

 

“I missed you,” Kindaichi whispered. Akira closed his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” he replied, and they both knew it wasn’t for disappearing. Kindaichi’s shoulders went tense.

 

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” he said. “You were just gone, like it didn’t even matter. Like _I_ didn’t even matter. How could you do that?”

 

“I didn’t have a choice,” Akira said. “I had to keep you safe.”

 

“That’s such _bullshit!_ ” Kindaichi shouted. He whirled on Akira, squeezing his hand too tight. “You are my best friend! And you just- _left_! Do you have any idea what it was like without you?” His voice grew very quiet and very small, and his shoulders hunched inward. “Did you even care?”

 

“Of course I care.” There were tears in Akira’s eyes, wherever his body was, but they could not form here. “I missed you every day, Kindaichi. You have no idea how hard it was.”

 

“Then why did you do it?” Kindaichi was closer again, close enough for Akira to lean against him.

 

“Because it was the only choice I had,” he said. “I couldn’t put you in danger anymore. I care about you too much.”

 

“So instead you broke my heart.” It was plainly said, but that didn’t soften the blow.

 

“I’m sorry that what I did hurt you,” Akira said. “But I’m not sorry for doing it. And now, because of me, you just ended up in more danger. I can’t even disappear properly.”

 

Kindaichi let go of his hand. For a brief moment, panic flashed through his veins, afraid he would lose Kindaichi and they would both drift, anchor-less, through Kageyama’s magic. But then Kindaichi wrapped his arm around Akira’s waist instead and pulled him close, like it was any boring afternoon on the floor of Kindaichi’s bedroom.

 

“How do we get out of here?” Kindaichi asked him.

 

“We walk,” Akira replied. “But it’s going to mean moving through your mind. There may be some things you don’t want to see, or don’t want me to see. But if you try to hide them, it will only be worse.” He looked up at Kindaichi. “You need to trust me if you want to make it out.”

 

“I have always trusted you,” Kindaichi replied, and all at once the warmth, the fluttery feeling in his chest, the desire to lean into Kindaichi’s side and never leave was back. He nudged it away, drowning it in a lake of silence before Kageyama’s magic could give it form and substance in Kindaichi’s mind. He stood and took Kindaichi’s hand.

 

“This way,” he said and led them around to the front of the house. “You need to let me go, and step through that door,” he said.

 

“I’m not leaving you here,” Kindaichi said fiercely, holding tighter to Akira’s hand as though afraid he would slip away and be lost forever. Akira tried not to let himself feel warm from the sentiment.

 

“When you find your way back, I will too,” he said. “You would have to focus on keeping me here in order for me to stay. If you want me to go, then you have to _let_ me go.”

 

“I don’t ever want to let you go again.” It was so quiet that Akira wasn’t sure if it was a thought or if Kindaichi said it out loud. There was something flickering at the corner of Akira’s vision, something that tugged at his attention and begged him to turn his head and see. He closed his eyes.

 

“Kindaichi, you need to go,” he said. “It’s not safe to spend too much time here. And the others are worried, about both of us.” As if summoned by his words, the shout echoed across the hillside again. This time, Akira recognized it as his name, carried on Kageyama’s voice. He opened his eyes to look at Kindaichi. “It will be okay.”

 

Kindaichi’s eyes were sad and afraid and incredibly lonely. He looked at Akira, long and careful, and then he let his hand fall. He turned his back and walked through the door.

 

-*-


	25. Chapter 25

“I’ve taught this course for over twenty years now, and I have never seen a project quite as exciting as what the two of you have come up with.” Ito-sensei had been talking for the entirety of the train ride out to his colleague’s research site, and the more he talked and praised and pontificated the more Yuutarou was sure he was going to pass out. He did his best to ignore Ito-sensei, but everything he tried, from counting stains of the train floor to closing his eyes and listing off medicinal herbs native to the French countryside, only made him more nervous.

 

“Hey. You’re gonna be fine.” Kunimi spoke softly enough that the professor didn’t hear him, twining his fingers with Yuutarou’s and resting their joined hands in the sliver of space between them. Yuutarou took a deep breath through his nose and nodded.

 

“Ah, we’re here!” Ito-sensei bounced out of his seat and over to the door before the train even stopped moving. Kunimi smiled at Yuutarou and rolled his eyes as he followed at a more reasonable pace.

 

A car was waiting at the station, one of Ito-sensei’s colleagues there to drive them to the facility. Yuutarou sat silently in the back seat next to Kunimi while Ito-sensei chattered endlessly at the colleague. He closed his eyes and tried not to panic as the car wound its way into the mountains. A summer-warm hand covered his on his knee and squeezed in silent support.

 

The research facility was little more than a mountainside cabin on the very edge of what could be called civilization. By the time they reached it, Yuutarou was largely calm. He stepped out of the car into a meadow near the mountain’s summit and took a deep breath of clean air humming with green and growing magic. He shot Kunimi a smile over the roof of the car, waggling his eyebrows just to see the way he looked away to cover up his amusement.

 

“Takashi, it’s about time!” boomed a voice from across the meadow. A man in a pair of khaki shorts and a khaki shirt and a khaki hat was fast-walking across the meadow. “I thought you were hiding your face in shame.”

 

“Shame? Not with these boys!” crowed Ito-sensei. “You wait until you see what they’ve thought up. It’s brilliant!”

 

“Why do I feel like he’s our bragging father?” muttered Kunimi.

 

“Must be the sandals with socks,” Yuutarou replied. Kunimi snickered.

 

“Well, let’s see if all that bluster has any substance,” said the khaki man. “Right this way, boys.”

 

The khaki man led them down into a small valley off to one side of the facility, a squat little depression filled with nothing but grass and a few stray dandelions. There was a table set up at one end of the valley, loaded with a couple instruments that Yuutarou recognized and several that he didn’t. He explained their purpose, but Yuutarou was only half paying attention. The grass in the field was reaching out to him, green magic soothing a green mage. He smiled and reached out in return.

 

“Okay, we’ve got this just about set up. Why don’t you boys show us what you’ve got?” Kunimi nodded to the khaki man and led Yuutarou to the center of the valley. Yuutarou hummed under his breath to calm his nerves as he started the spell.

 

This meadow was a much larger scale than the scrubby little side field where they had done their small tests. The shield he cast out was no longer a neat little square, but covered the entire valley floor. He coaxed the grass and the dandelions to attention, reminding them to be strong and open, ready for Kunimi. A small, burning-hot hand slipped into his and he held the magic up for Kunimi’s inspection.

 

All at once, there was nothing different about it at all. Their magics combined the same way they always had, like the expert weave of colors, embroidery in a hoop. Kunimi threaded his magic through Yuutarou’s and for a moment nothing else existed. The veil between them lifted and Yuutarou could see the burning sun at Kunimi’s core. He smiled as they brought the spell to its close. He untangled his soul from Kunimi’s, and then their fingers, shaking off the last of the union like cobwebs clinging to his fingertips. With a tired but triumphant smile, he turned to face Ito-sensei and the khaki man.

 

Kunimi directed them all to a safe distance and stood at the mouth of the meadow. Yuutarou watched him prepare for a moment, frowning at the incessant buzzing of his phone. He pulled it out as Kunimi took a deep breath and started pulling fire from his soul.

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [KINDAICHI WHERE ARE YOUUUUUUUUU]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [Oh right you’re off in the mountains changing the world or something]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [WELL WHEN YOU’RE DONE WITH THAT I NEED YOU TO COME HOME IMMEDIATELY AND CONSOLE ME]

 

ME: [Oikawa-san is this actually an emergency, or is it you freaking out over nothing again?]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [Like, 45% panic. Need you asap, but not enough for you to drop what you’re doing since it’s for school.]

 

ME: [Okay. Let me know if you get above a 70.]

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧: [(￣^￣)ゞ☆]

 

Yuutarou smiled down at his phone fondly. Oikawa was easy enough to read, as long as you knew his language. The obnoxious emojis were his way of reassuring Yuutarou without admitting that that was what he was doing. Whatever was going on, Oikawa would be fine.

 

He was so distracted by the conversation that he almost didn’t notice the world falling apart a few feet away. It wasn’t until the khaki man shouted in surprise and a touch of terror that Yuutarou even knew anything was wrong.

 

Kunimi was standing in the mouth of the meadow, backlit by more fire than Yuutarou had ever seen in one place. It raged around him, a hungry beast looking for anything to devour. Kunimi’s hands were fisted in his hair and he was crumpling in on himself, his spine a familiar arch of pure, unadulterated panic.

 

Yuutarou didn’t think. He sprinted forward, ignoring the shouts of the men behind him. The very air was burning and sweat poured down Yuutarou’s spine as he fell to his knees beside Kunimi.

 

Kunimi let out a wordless cry, curling tighter on himself, and the air grew hotter. Yuutarou settled a firm hand between Kunimi’s shoulder blades, and the air grew hotter still. Yuutarou could see the way the fire was beating at an invisible barrier around them, unable for the moment to harm its caller, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Not with Kunimi losing control like this. Yuutarou wrapped his arms around Kunimi’s waist and hauled him away from the meadow. Free of Kunimi’s presence, the fire sprang loose and wild, the stuff of nightmares ready to destroy the world. It reached out for Yuutarou, but he didn’t feel its sting even as his sleeve burned away. He was too focused on getting Kunimi to safety.

 

Kunimi noticed, though. He whimpered at the sight of it, clutching at Yuutarou’s other arm and then thrashing wildly against his hold. Yuutarou gritted his teeth and held him tighter, still dragging them both away. Kunimi looked up, and for a moment their eyes met. Memory tingled at the back of Yuutarou’s mind but he pushed it away; there was no time for another episode now. The fear in Kunimi’s eyes hardened, and then disappeared along with every other thought and emotion and Kunimi went limp in Yuutarou’s arms. As Yuutarou dragged him over to Ito-sensei and the khaki man, the fire settled and died down until it was little more than a few smoldering embers on the edge of the meadow. The khaki man snorted.

 

“Well, at least we know your spell works,” he muttered as he reached out to help Yuutarou carry Kunimi. Yuutarou glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, within the boundaries of the spell the grass and dandelions were as green and vibrant as ever. Somehow the sight didn’t reassure him.

 

-

 

They sent Yuutarou home once Kageyama had arrived at the facility. Apparently whatever Kunimi had done to cut off his magic had sent him into a psychic coma similar to the one Oikawa had used on Yuutarou during his last episode, and he would need Kageyama’s help to come out of it. Kageyama had taken one look at Yuutarou hovering over the cot they had settled Kunimi on and pointed mutely at the door, and that had been that. Any argument Yuutarou could have made was wherever his missing memories were, stolen and hidden away.

 

He shuffled into the cafe with an exhausted sigh. It was echoed by Oikawa, sprawled across one of the chairs. Yuutarou nudged his calf until he shifted enough for Yuutarou to squeeze into the chair beside him, then flopped fully across his lap.

 

“Okay,” Yuutarou said. “What’s up?”

 

“You first,” Oikawa hummed. “Why’d Tobio-chan run out in a panic?”

 

“You know full well why,” Yuutarou muttered, but he recounted the events of the afternoon nonetheless. Oikawa hummed and nestled his head more comfortably against Yuutarou’s shoulder.

 

“I told Ushiwaka I hated him and never wanted to see him again.” Yuutarou snorted, adjusting Oikawa’s position so he wasn’t rubbing up against the bandaged burn on Yuutarou’s arm. “I didn’t mean to. I just panicked, and it was the only thing I could think of.”

 

“I’m sure he knows you don’t mean it,” Yuutarou murmured.

 

“I know,” Oikawa replied. “He may be dense, but he’s not that dense. But I’m giving up on him.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t think it’s meant to be,” Oikawa explained. “Or if it is, then it’s not meant to be me chasing him. I’ve screwed that up too many times. So I’ve decided to take the patented Kindaichi Yuutarou approach and play hard to get instead.”

 

“I don’t _play hard to get_ , Oikawa-san.” He tried for a scandalized tone, but all that came out was laughter.

 

“Sure,” Oikawa snorted. “So you’re pretending you’re not head-over-heels for Kunimi-chan because you _don_ _’t_ want him to notice you.”

 

“I’m not head-over-heels for Kunimi!” Balls of colored light danced in the corners of Yuutarou’s vision, manifesting as Oikawa’s mood lifted.

 

“Kindaichi. You know you can’t lie to me.” Oikawa craned his head so that he could blink at Yuutarou, slow, lazy, and all-knowing. “You have feelings for that boy, don’t try to pretend you don’t.”

 

“Even if you’re right - which you aren’t! - it would be just a crush. I would literally never fall so low. And I wouldn’t act all coy and flippant like that.”

 

“Sure, Kindaichi,” Oikawa laughed. The lights curled gold and pink with that laughter, and Yuutarou knew that everything would be alright.

 

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” Yuutarou grumbled.

 

“Oh, Kindaichi. Sweet, simple Kindaichi. The shop’s closed for the day, at least until Tobio gets back.” Yuutarou looked around, and sure enough there was no one else in the cafe. The sign in the door was turned to closed, but Yuutarou hadn’t even thought to look when he’d walked in. There was no one behind the counter and all the machines were off. He sighed and dropped his forehead to Oikawa’s temple.

 

“It’s been a long day,” he said.

 

“Tell me about it,” Oikawa sighed. “Let’s just take a nap and pretend the world doesn’t exist for a while, ‘kay?” His voice was already growing lazy and slow.

 

“Take your binder off first,” Yuutarou scolded.

 

“Whatever, _mom_.”

 

“Don’t make me call Iwaizumi.”

 

“He’s not my mom either.”

 

“Take it off.”

 

“Make me.”

 

Yuutarou didn’t answer, only dug his fingers into Oikawa’s sides. The afternoon dissolved into shrieks of laughter and pops of colorful lights.

 

-

 

Walking through Kageyama’s magic without Kageyama to guide him wasn’t nearly as difficult as Akira had thought it would be. He found the place where the seaside met the forest and walked along its perimeter, looking for the path in. As he went, he watched the images between the tree trunks. Today they were largely scenes of Akira and Kindaichi, snapshots of their past together. Remembered future-thoughts of the times Akira hadn’t quite allowed himself to hope for. He found the path at last, sandwiched between Kindaichi holding out a dahlia and smiling and Kindaichi screaming at the edge of a barrier spell. He sighed and stepped down it.

 

As the seaside faded in the background and Akira lost himself in the forest, he could hear voices around him and feel someone’s hand on his face. His eyes flickered open then shut, the forest losing form and substance around him.

 

“Well, he’s not dead.” Akira opened his eyes to glare at Oikawa, but before he could manage it his vision filled with Kindaichi’s face. He was smiling, a sad-hopeful thing that broke Akira’s heart once more. He reached out and cupped Akira’s cheek. Akira closed his eyes and pressed into the touch.

 

“You’re warm,” Kindaichi whispered. Akira forced himself to roll his eyes and sit up, head spinning.

 

“Easy there,” said Oikawa’s friend. “Take it slow.”

 

“Who’re you?” Akira asked, not caring how insolent he sounded.

 

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” the boy said. “You’re Kunimi, right?” Akira nodded. He looked around the room, at a loss.

 

It was Kindaichi who voiced the question they were all thinking. “What do we do now?” he asked. “I mean, how do we fix this?”

 

“You said you got the amulet from a witch by the sea, right?” Iwaizumi asked, looking at Kageyama. “Maybe we should start by asking her.”

 

“Good idea, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa with a voice like ice. He was staring at Kageyama, eyes empty and unfathomable. Akira couldn’t help but shift closer, protective. “I think we’ve done all we can here,” Oikawa snarled. “We should go.”

 

“Oh no you don’t,” huffed Iwaizumi. “You helped make this mess, you’re gonna help clean it up.”

 

“How is this _my_ fault?” Oikawa squawked. Iwaizumi just looked at him. “Iwa-chan.” It was quiet, and Akira would almost call it vulnerable. “Iwa-chan, I can’t.”

 

“Oikawa-san, we can’t do this without you,” muttered Akira. “You know how powerful Kageyama is. We need another psychic’s protection.”

 

Oikawa opened his mouth but it was Kindaichi who spoke. “Two years before I took my first step. Two more before I could walk without the balance bars. Three with the crutches, eighteen months with the cane. I was thirteen before I could hear someone’s thoughts again, fifteen before I could call the lights. And now they want me to follow that monster to help him get his magic back.”

 

“Stop,” Kageyama croaked. Oikawa had turned pale, his hands shaking in his lap.

 

“So much pain, lying in the waiting room. Couldn’t look at anything other than the ceiling, couldn’t turn my head.” Kindaichi’s eyes were glassy and faraway, pointed at Oikawa without actually seeing him. “Nurses said I was lucky to survive, but what’s lucky about this? Ten years of my life lost to _him_.”

 

“ _Stop it!_ ” screamed Oikawa, clapping his hands over his ears, as if that would stop it.

 

“Kindaichi, look at me,” commanded Akira. He gripped Kindaichi’s chin and forced him to turn his head. “Look at me,” he whispered.

 

“Kunimi,” breathed Kindaichi. For a moment, his eyes focused. Then the glaze returned and he shuddered. “Fire. Should have burned me, should have finished it right there. The walls shook when he was asleep. Knocked the book with the dahlia off the shelf-”

 

Akira threw up his defenses, trapping Kindaichi in the white, empty sea. He stuttered to a stop, blinking. “Kindaichi,” said Akira. “I need you to shut it down. Build a box around it, put it away. You can do this.”

 

“I don’t know how,” said Kindaichi, both aloud and into Akira’s mind.

 

“Then let me in, and I’ll do it for you,” Akira said. Kindaichi shuddered again, and then Akira could see his way in. He reached for Kindaichi, pulling him close and wrapping himself around him. Kindaichi slumped forward, body mimicking mind. _It_ _’s okay,_ he murmured. _I have you. Just let go and let me help._

 

Kindaichi nodded, and the white-knuckle grip he had on Kageyama’s magic loosened. Akira took it from him and silently began building walls.

 

 _Will this work_? Kindaichi asked, shuddering again.

 

 _For now,_ Akira answered. _Not forever, though._ He closed off the walls and spent a moment looking around for more traces. He could still feel the residue of Kageyama’s magic, frightened and all-encompassing, but underneath that was something else, something small and tender and fresh. Akira dug under Kageyama to find Kindaichi, the vivid green-gold curl of his magic. He had never seen it quite like this, and he couldn’t help but reach out for it. Kindaichi shivered and held him a little tighter, the tension leaking from his shoulders. Akira spent a moment curled in the life and promise that was Kindaichi’s magic, then let it go. He eased out of Kindaichi’s mind and back into his own, and the room was still and silent. Oikawa was watching them with eyes that did not trust and did not yield but also did not condemn. He pinned Akira with those eyes, and with the probing touch of a psychic that did not intend to intrude but wanted to know if they could. Akira met his gaze and expanded his ocean, waiting for Oikawa to nod and look down at last. Akira stroked his fingers through Kindaichi’s hair, trying to take solace in how soft and loose it hung against his temple.

 

“Kageyama,” he said softly, not looking up from the lanky boy curled in his lap. “Where is the witch?”

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think subconsciously I did not want to write this chapter at all, because it took me like two weeks


	26. Chapter 26

Kunimi wasn’t in class the next day. Ito-sensei shot Yuutarou a sympathetic smile when he bustled in several minutes late to the lecture, and barely had time to say something about “exhaustion from spending so long in a psychic coma” before his phone rang and he ducked out of the room again. Yuutarou shuffled towards the cafe with a growing sense of trepidation. Kageyama looked up when he walked in and then promptly ducked through the door into the kitchen. Yuutarou sighed and flopped down in his favorite armchair.

 

“What’s up with you and Kageyama?” Watari called across the shop. Yuutarou waved a lazy hand, not willing to shout back. He waited, and sure enough after a moment Watari came to him, carrying a cup with Yahaba’s number and a winky-face written under Yuutarou’s name. Yuutarou rolled his eyes, but accepted the drink nonetheless.

 

“Nothing’s up between me and Kageyama,” he said, draping his legs across the arm of the chair so that he was facing Watari. “Kunimi passed out during our experiment yesterday, though.”

 

“Why’d he do that?” Watari asked. Yuutarou shrugged. “Okay, so why’s Kageyama avoiding you?”

 

“Probably he’s upset about Kunimi and doesn’t want to talk to me about it,” Yuutarou answered with a shrug. “It’s fine. I’m really just waiting for Oikawa-san anyway.”

 

“Well, since you’re not doing anything anyway-”

 

“No.”

 

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

 

“I’m not sleeping with you, Watari-san.”

 

“Okay, what about-”

 

“I’m not sleeping with Yahaba-san either.”

 

“You do realize that out of our entire combined acquaintance, only you and like three other people have ever said no to us?” Yuutarou shrugged.

 

“Ask one of the other three, then,” he said. “I’m not interested.”

 

“Okay.” Watari shrugged lightly and flopped onto his back.

 

“Seriously?” Yuutarou asked, eyes narrowing. Watari waggled a foot in his direction.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I only asked ‘cause Shigeru wanted me to check again. But at this point it’s more like a running joke? If you really don’t want to, neither of us is gonna be that upset by it. It’s just something to check in on every once in a while, you know?” Yuutarou snorted.

 

“I promise, if I ever change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.” Watari sat up enough to shoot him a grin, then flopped back onto the couch. Yuutarou rolled his eyes and pulled out a textbook at random, settling in for a few hours of mindless reviewing.

 

Oikawa swanned into the cafe later with all his usual grace and bluster, trailing light magic like a glittery cape.

 

“Kindaichi,” he said dramatically, puffing his chest out and planting his hands on his hips, “how would you like to help your favorite senpai with something incredibly important?”

 

“If Iwaizumi-san wants help with something he can text me himself,” Yuutarou droned.

 

“Funny,” Oikawa said. “Now answer the question.”

 

“What do you want, Oikawa-san?” Yuutarou sighed. He closed his book, vaguely mourning the loss of a perfectly ordinary afternoon.

 

“I want you to murder me,” Oikawa chirped happily. He glanced nervously at the door to the kitchen.

 

“It loses a lot of its appeal if you’re actually asking for it,” Yuutarou said. “Why would I do that?”

 

Oikawa sat on the sofa, sitting as close to Yuutarou as the furniture would allow and speaking in quick, hushed tones. “Okay, remember that bet I made with Tobio-chan two weeks ago?”

 

“The one where you had a week to-”

 

“Yes that one,” interrupted Oikawa. “Well, you will notice that more than a week has gone by.”

 

“I _did_ notice, actually,” Yuutarou said. “Tell me why I should care.”

 

“ _You should care_ because Tobio-chan plans on making good on that promise today and I need you to murder me before he can so that he’ll be too distracted by swearing revenge on you to actually go through with it.” Oikawa blinked at him, long eyelashes fluttering in the light of his own anxiety. Yuutarou smiled at him, as sweetly as he could, and reached out to pat his head.

 

“Not a chance in hell,” he said. Oikawa sagged against the arm of the couch.

 

“Kindaichi!” he whined into the upholstery. “Why don’t you love me?”

 

“Because when I was seventeen you threatened to shave my head because I ate your last piece of milkbread,” Yuutarou replied dully.

 

“I stand by that threat, you little shit.” Oikawa tried to droop more, but the tension in his shoulders wouldn’t let him. Yuutarou reached out to pat the space between his shoulder blades gently.

 

“There, there. You’ll survive this, I promise.” Oikawa lifted his head to stare at Yuutarou, his eyes dead. Yuutarou returned the stare, unimpressed. The bell over the door jingled and the kitchen door opened and Yuutarou smiled.

 

“Don’t get all happy, it’s not him,” Oikawa muttered. Yuutarou looked up to watch Yamaguchi make his way over to the counter, smiling. Kyoutani stepped out to meet him, and they left the shop together. “Disgusting,” Oikawa muttered. “How come they can get their shit together? They’re supposed to be an even bigger trainwreck than I am.”

 

“Did they actually get it together?” Yuutarou hummed. Oikawa slumped once more.

 

“Yeah, Yahaba-chan made them sit down and use their grown up words. Now they’re an actual couple, with an online status and everything.” Oikawa sounded utterly miserable about this.

 

“So you’re saying that they worked through their issues by _talking_ to each other?” Yuutarou gasped. “Amazing! If only their success could somehow be replicated!”

 

“Fuck off, Kindaichi.” Yuutarou smiled and kicked at the sofa.

 

“Get to work, you lump,” he laughed. “Lying here moping isn’t going to solve any problems, it’s just gonna get you fired.” Oikawa muttered something indistinguishable and probably obscene at the sofa, then peeled himself off the cushions. He shot Yuutarou one last glare, then slumped off to grab his apron and start his shift. Yuutarou stared off into space for a moment, trying to decide what he was going to do with the rest of his day. His phone buzzed.

 

KUNIMI: [Did you take notes today]

 

ME: [Yeah. Do you want me to bring them over?]

 

KUNIMI: [Could you]

 

KUNIMI: [And a caramel macchiato]

 

Yuutarou smiled and allowed himself a moment to feel warm and fond. Then he put his phone away and got up to order Kunimi’s coffee.

 

-

 

When Yuutarou arrived at Kunimi’s dorm with coffee and a bag full of pastries, Lev was sitting in the middle of the floor, trying to peel grapes. Yuutarou stepped around them carefully and climbed onto the bed next to Kunimi. Without a word he held out the macchiato and the caramel sticky bun Kageyama had added to the bag, utterly absorbed in watching Lev.

 

“What are they doing?” Yuutarou asked after several minutes and fifteen destroyed grapes.

 

“Trying to remove a grape peel in one piece. Kuroo - Tetsurou - bet them they couldn’t do it,” Kunimi replied. “They’ve been here for two and a half hours.”

 

Yuutarou nodded absently. “I don’t see the appeal,” he said. Kunimi was absolutely still and silent for a moment, then snorted.

 

“You’re horrible,” he said, leaning against Yuutarou’s side.

 

“You love me,” Yuutarou replied with a grin. He pulled his bear claw out of the pastry bag and stuffed half of it in his mouth. Kunimi’s face was strangely red. “You okay?” Yuutarou asked around a mouthful of pastry.

 

“Fine,” Kunimi said.

 

“You sure? I can go if you want, and let you get some rest. I’ll leave the notes here and-”

 

“Kindaichi, shut up.” Yuutarou closed his mouth with an audible click. Kunimi sighed and sat upright, leaning over to set his cup on the bedside table. “Let me see your notes,” he said quietly. Yuutarou pulled them out of his bag and handed them over.

 

He tried not to read too much into it. Kunimi was exhausted, and there were probably some lingering effects from the psychic coma he’d been in the day before. But it was difficult not to feel like he had annoyed Kunimi, like maybe this fledgling crush he’d developed was both obvious and unwanted. He tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible as Kunimi went over the notes, answering his questions quietly and briefly. When Kunimi got up to go to the bathroom Yuutarou dropped his head back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself.

 

“You know,” said Lev invitingly. Yuutarou opened his eyes just enough to see them refusing to look up from their grapes. “I can’t tell if you’re being cruel on purpose, or if you’re just blind.”

 

“…Are you gonna explain that to me?” Yuutarou asked. He felt exhausted all of a sudden, in no mood for self-examination, or for interrogation. Lev shrugged.

 

“Guess it’s blind then,” they said. “Which kinda sucks, ‘cause I can’t tell you to knock it off. But you should maybe take a good look at yourself.”

 

“Lev, what are you talking about?” asked Yuutarou. Lev wiped the remnants of a grape off their fingers and looked up at him at last. Yuutarou was caught in their eyes, the fervent green like staring into the vastness of the universe itself. Then Lev shrugged and picked up another grape, and the moment was lost.

 

Kunimi came slumping back into the bedroom and crawled up beside Yuutarou, flopping over into his lap. Yuutarou’s entire body felt hot and his heart started beating too fast in his chest and everything was tingly and wonderful and it scared the shit out of him. Kunimi grumbled inaudibly and then yawned, shifting his cheek onto a more comfortable part of Yuutarou’s thigh.

 

“Wake me at graduation,” he muttered. Yuutarou laughed and threaded his fingers through Kunimi’s hair. He hoped Kunimi didn’t notice his hand trembling just slightly.

 

“But if you’re asleep, you’ll miss out on all the wonderful company,” he said. Kunimi peeled an eye open to consider him.

 

“You have a p-”

 

“I GOT IT!” Lev held up a naked grape and its intact peel in either hand, grinning in triumph. Yuutarou grinned at them. Kunimi snorted.

 

“You have a crumb,” he said, closing his eyes. “By your nose.” Yuutarou slapped a hand over his face, scrubbing at his skin. He didn’t feel anything, but when he pulled his hand away Lev gave him a thumbs-up. He settled his hand back in Kunimi’s hair and couldn’t help the rush of warmth that flooded him at the contented sigh the action won him. After the warmth came guilt, the two feelings chasing one another round and round in Yuutarou’s chest until everything felt muddled and wrong. He pulled his hand away slowly.

 

“I should be getting back.” Kunimi groaned disapprovingly, which only made the guilt feel colder. “Sorry,” Yuutarou said. “But I’ve got class in the morning, and I promised Hinata I’d go over our last econ quiz with him tonight.” Kunimi sat up, but his face was scrunched with displeasure. Yuutarou tried not to look like he was scrambling desperately as he gathered up his things and stuffed them in his bag. As he closed the door to Kunimi and Lev’s dorm, he wondered why Kunimi looked so sad, why his farewell had felt so final. When he closed the door to his own dorm, he leaned against it for a moment to get his bearings. Tsukishima, Hinata, and Yachi blinked up at him from the couch.

 

“Oh dear,” Yachi said.

 

“What does _that_ mean?” Yuutarou cried. Yachi gave him a sweet, sad smile and shook her head.

 

“You look like hell,” Tsukishima commented. Yuutarou sighed and peeled himself off the door. He shuffled over to sit in front of the couch, leaning his back against Tsukishima’s shins. Yachi and Hinata both reached out to play with his hair and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

 

“I take back twenty percent of the disparaging comments I made when you were getting together,” he said.

 

“A whole twenty percent? Wow.” Tsukishima grunted, probably from an elbow to his ribs. Yuutarou squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

 

“What’s wrong?” Yachi murmured.

 

“I don’t know how to do this whole crush thing,” he said.

 

“No one really does,” Hinata told him. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you through this.” Yuutarou wrapped his arms around his middle and tried to believe him.

 

-

 

Kageyama left a note, on the off chance that either of his parents came home that night before they got back. It hurt something in Akira to see him do it and think that no matter how independent he’d been forced to become, Kageyama was still a thirteen-year-old boy. He wondered what Tsuyoshi would say if he found out what his son had done. He wondered if Kageyama knew.

 

It was mid-afternoon by the time they left Kageyama’s parents’ apartment, the air hot and heavy around them. Oikawa scowled as he limped down the last of the stairs, taking a moment to rub at his knee while he waited for the others to catch up. Iwaizumi gave him a significant look, but he brushed it off, squaring his shoulders and staring at Kageyama like he was just waiting for a reason to attack. Akira grabbed Kageyama’s hand and stared back.

 

“Will you fucking stop it?” Iwaizumi snapped. He smacked Oikawa on the back of the head and turned to face Kageyama with a much more reasonable expression. Akira found himself mollified. “Where to, Kageyama?” asked Iwaizumi.

 

“The shrine on the hillside,” Kageyama said, a little reluctantly. Oikawa snorted.

 

“I coulda’ told you it wouldn’t work,” he sniffed. “That old sea witch wouldn’t know a good spell if it slapped her in the face.”

 

“Kind of like how you wouldn’t know respect if it did the same,” muttered Iwaizumi. “Let’s get going then. We don’t want to be climbing in the dark.

 

If Akira thought walking through the streets with Kageyama was uncomfortable, it was nothing like walking with Kageyama _and_ Oikawa. Where before people had avoided looking at them, now they stared openly. Some whispered behind hands, some didn’t bother to hide their whispering, some didn’t bother to whisper at all. Kindaichi shuffled a little closer to Akira and bent down to murmur in his ear, “Why are they all looking at us like we have too many heads?”

 

“It’s a long story,” droned Akira.

 

“Not that long,” Oikawa said, far too chipper. Kageyama winced. Kindaichi looked between them, brow furrowed in adorable confusion. Akira sighed.

 

“Basically, when Kageyama’s magic manifested, it backfired and Oikawa was caught in the middle of it. I’m sure you can imagine the extent of the damage.” Kindaichi’s eyes widened and he nodded quietly. Oikawa looked like he was about to add on, but with a glance at Kageyama and one at Kindaichi, he fell silent. Akira tightened his grip on Kageyama’s hand and pulled him onward a little faster.

 

Mid-afternoon was beginning to fade to early evening by the time they were clear of the last of the tourist shops on the beach. Akira watched Kindaichi run his hands through the tall sea grass with an almost-smile on his face.

 

“Why are you even here?” he asked suddenly. Kindaichi started and looked back at him with his head cocked and his brow furrowed.

 

“Oh, you mean in this town?” he asked. “My aunt moved here last week. I was going to help her get settled, then spend the summer doing chores around the shop and stuff.”

 

“The aunt with the nose?” Akira asked, trying to imagine her running a tourist shop. Her voice rang through his head, a memory of a family trip he and his mother had joined in on, when Akira and Kindaichi had tried to shave Kindaichi’s grandfather’s cat. Laughter bubbled in his chest, laughter that Kindaichi didn’t bother to keep stifled.

 

“Yeah,” he giggled. “That’s why I was gonna help out. _My_ face wouldn’t scare customers away, after all.” Akira snorted.

 

Kageyama squeezed his hand, and all at once reality came crashing back. Akira looked down and returned the squeeze in silence. The ground began to slope upward.

 

It started like a tug on Akira’s ear, irritated and insistent. He glanced at Kageyama on instinct, then remembered himself. The tug came again, and he looked at Kindaichi, but he was very obviously not the cause. One more tug and he sighed.

 

“What do you want, Oikawa-san?” he snapped. Kindaichi jumped, his eyes darting between Oikawa and Akira. Oikawa glared at him.

 

_The point of a silent conversation, Kunimi-chan, is that it remains silent._

 

“Oh, is that the point?” Akira gasped, clutching at his chest. “Thank you, for clearing that up.”

 

“Kunimi?” Kindaichi asked. Akira gave him something that almost might have been a smile, in other circumstances.

 

_Look, I-_

 

 _What do you want?_ Akira asked silently, but he continued to glare at Oikawa. Oikawa returned the glare, then tossed his head and turned forward again.

 

 _Tell me about the kid,_ he said. _What are we dealing with here?_

 

Akira sighed and resisted the urge to glance at Kindaichi. _As long as Kageyama_ _’s magic doesn’t attack anyone, we’re fine. He’s a plant mage, nothing too dangerous._

 

_But?_

 

Akira waited until Oikawa looked back at him. He wanted his full meaning to be clear. _Kindaichi may not be a danger to us,_ he said, _but I am._

 

He opened a path to Oikawa, one leading straight to his memories of the benchmark. He showed Oikawa exactly what he was capable of, and exactly how little hope there would be. _If Kageyama_ _’s magic takes hold of mine, none of us will survive it._

 

Oikawa’s eyes went wide and he regarded Akira with a new expression. He nodded, once to Akira and once to himself, and turned around again. Akira let his defenses rebuild themselves and watched as Oikawa shifted so that he was walking between Akira and Iwaizumi.

 

He wished it would be enough.

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I started this chapter sometime in the middle of April, and finished it on May 6. We’ll see where the plot goes from here lol.
> 
> Bonus: I might be convinced to eventually write a YamaKyou spinoff, if y’all want more details on what went down between them. They didn’t get as much screentime as I expected, but there is a whole story there.


	27. Chapter 27

Spa day was a longstanding tradition dating back years before Yuutarou even knew Oikawa. Once a month, without fail, Oikawa turned the living room of his apartment into a sanctuary of peaceful music and sweet-smelling creams. He was joined by a rotating cast of friends and hangers-on, though Yuutarou and Iwaizumi were there the most often.

 

With finals so close, today boasted a particularly full house: Yuutarou, Iwaizumi, Kageyama, and two of Oikawa’s childhood friends, Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Yuutarou listened to their chatter and Iwaizumi’s snoring as he painted Oikawa’s toenails, content to pretend the outside world didn’t exist for a while.

 

“So Kindaichi, tell me about this crush of yours,” said Hanamaki. Yuutarou smeared polish across Oikawa’s toe.

 

“My _what_?” he spat. Hanamaki lay on his back, scrolling through Kageyama’s phone. Yuutarou lunged for it. Hanamaki did something complicated with his hands and it disappeared, reappearing on Matsukawa’s stomach. Matsukawa picked it up lazily and thumbed through whatever Hanamaki had left up.

 

“You never said who it was,” he complained, then tossed the phone at Kageyama. It went wide, then stopped and floated gently to rest near Kageyama’s knee. Kageyama didn’t look up from his laptop.

 

“I am _not_ discussing this in a room full of psychics,” Yuutarou snapped.

 

“There’s only two of us,” muttered Oikawa. Yuutarou sniffed and grabbed a napkin to mop up the excess polish and begin that nail over.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

 

“It’s not like neither of us know,” said Kageyama. “You can’t hide from Tooru and he can’t hide from me.”

 

“Great,” Yuutarou muttered. “So that means _he_ knows too.”

 

“Who’s _he_?” chirped Hanamaki.

 

“He doesn’t know,” said Kageyama. “It wasn’t important enough to let him know, or to actively hide.”

 

“Besides, I thought you didn’t have a crush on him, Kindaichi~” Oikawa sang his name in that lilting tone that had never meant anything other than danger and hangovers.

 

“I don’t,” said Yuutarou. “I don’t get crushes, you all know that.”

 

“Are we talking about Kunimi?” asked Iwaizumi. “’Cause everyone knows about that.”

 

“Go back to sleep,” snapped Yuutarou. “Besides, my lack of a crush on Kunimi isn’t all that interesting.”

 

“You say that like you have something that is interesting,” said Matsukawa.

 

“I do,” Yuutarou hummed, caping the bottle of nail polish and reaching for the topcoat. “But only if we stop fixating on me for a while.”

 

“Depends,” said Hanamaki. “Who’re we fixating on instead?”

 

“Do one of you want to tell them, or should I?” Yuutarou asked. Iwaizumi grunted and Kageyama shrugged.

 

“Oh, are we fixating on Oikawa? I love fixating on Oikawa.” Matsukawa sat up against the front of the couch with a grin.

 

“Everyone loves fixating on me,” Oikawa sniffed. He poked mentally at Yuutarou for a moment, and Yuutarou watched realization dawn cruel and horrid across his face. “No, don’t you dare-”

 

There was a knock at the door. Oikawa turned to look at it, expression caught somewhere between confusion and suspicion. Kageyama climbed to his feet and padded over to the entryway without a word.

 

“Iwa-chan,” hissed Oikawa, “who else was invited today?”

 

Yuutarou recognized the voice in the hallway just before Oikawa did and seized him by the ankles. “Your nails are wet,” he warned, “and if you move you’ll stain the carpet and lose your security deposit.”

 

“Kindaichi, let me go so I can destroy my traitor of a boyfriend.” Oikawa’s voice was low and dangerous, but his eyes were flooded with anxiety. _I don_ _’t want him to see me like-_

 

Yuutarou nodded and reached behind him for a pair of flip flops. “Your binder is hanging up above the tub,” he said. “You’re coming right back out here, or I’ll make up some horribly embarrassing reason for you to be gone.” Oikawa shoved the sandals onto his feet and darted from the room in a flurry of flapping sounds. Yuutarou snorted.

 

“Ushijima,” greeted Iwaizumi as he and Kageyama rounded the corner.

 

“It is nice to see you again, Iwaizumi,” said Ushijima somewhat stiffly.

 

 _What_ _’s the deal with that?_ Yuutarou asked. Oikawa paused to replay the moment in Yuutarou’s head, then groaned.

 

 _Remember when that weekend when Iwa-chan and I moved up here and we were running all over the school to get settled?_ A series of snapshot memories flashed through Yuutarou’s head and he gave a mental nod. _Well we ran into Ushiwaka, and he made some comment about Iwa-chan not having any magic._

 

 _So_ that’s _why you hated him so much,_ Yuutarou mused.

 

 _He_ _’s been so careful since he realized how it had sounded,_ Oikawa sighed. It was tinged with a sort of painful longing that Yuutarou was beginning to understand, if only a little. _He apologized to Iwa-chan, like with dinner and everything. And he hasn_ _’t made a single comment since then. I think he really wants to be friends._

 

Ushijima was settling on the floor next to Hanamaki, listening intently to the story of how he and Oikawa had met, when Oikawa had gotten his hand stuck in a sink. Yuutarou snorted. _Hanamaki-san wants to be friends too._

 

A shriek and more flapping from down the hall, and Oikawa was darting into the living room. “Makki!” he cried. “Mattsun! Come here and help me grab some drinks for everyone!” He flapped into the kitchen and Matsukawa and Hanamaki followed, laughing. Iwaizumi snorted.

 

“He doesn’t think that’s going to stop them, does he?” he asked.

 

“He hopes,” said Kageyama.

 

“I don’t want to stop them,” Ushijima hummed. “I like hearing their stories.”

 

“Don’t worry,” said Iwaizumi, clapping Ushijima on the back as he rolled to his feet. “There’s plenty of stories to go around.”

 

 _They dropped him in a room with all the people who know too much about me_ wailed Oikawa. Both Yuutarou and Kageyama flinched.

 

 _Calm down, you big baby_ , said Yuutarou. _Everything will be fine, if you stop acting like you_ _’ve got something to hide._

 

 _Everyone has something to hide, Kindaichi._ Oikawa appeared from the kitchen, holding a cup of green tea and one of hot chocolate. _Some of us just have more than others._

 

“If you’re done philosophizing,” Yuutarou droned, taking the cups from Oikawa so he could sit down, “Do you have any of that seaweed mask you were talking about last week?”

 

Oikawa dug through his basket of scrubs and masks and creams, handing the packet over. He glanced at Kageyama, clearly having some sort of silent argument, then sighed. Slowly, nervously, he shuffled on his knees until he was in front of Ushijima.

 

“Would- would you like a mask or a cream, U-Ushiwaka-chan?” he murmured, almost too quietly to be heard. The tips of Ushijima’s ears turned red, but Oikawa was too busy staring at the floor to notice.

 

“I am not sure as to the difference,” he said. “Would you recommend one to me?”

 

 _This is painful to watch,_ Yuutarou droned. Oikawa snarled mentally at him and Kageyama snorted. Oikawa shuffled through the basket for a moment, then pulled out a jar of thick face cream. He frowned and dug a headband out as well.

 

“Put this on,” he said, handing Ushijima the headband. Oikawa unscrewed the lid to the jar with only a light blush dusted across his cheeks. He looked up to see Ushijima with his hair pushed back, looking a little awkward but very earnest, and the blush got a little darker. “Hold still,” he murmured as he dipped his fingers in the cream and began coating Ushijima’s face with it.

 

Yuutarou took a sip of his hot chocolate and enjoyed watching Hanamaki and Matsukawa scowl and fidget under the tension emanating from Oikawa and Ushijima. He could all but feel their urge to say something, anything, to ruin the moment, but Iwaizumi sat on the couch behind them, one hand carding gently through Matsukawa’s hair and the other resting on the crook of Hanamaki’s neck. Yuutarou hid his grin behind his mug.

 

There came a knock at the door and Yuutarou’s smile slipped. “Did we invite anyone else?” he asked as he stood. The only answer he got was a shrug from Iwaizumi and a grin from Kageyama. He rolled his eyes. “You’re an ass,” he muttered as he picked his way out of the living room.

 

Kunimi was wearing a shirt that had to belong to Lev for how loose it was on him, the front tucked into a pair of shorts that would have disappeared beneath the hem otherwise. He gave Yuutarou a bored smile as he stepped inside and toed off his shoes. His hair was clipped back with a bright pink pair of bobby pins.

 

“You’re just in time,” Yuutarou said. “We were just watching Oikawa-san suffer.”

 

“Why, is Ushijima-san here?” Kunimi asked.

 

“He is. Oikawa-san is putting cream on his face.” Kunimi snickered as he and Yuutarou returned to the living room to see Oikawa wiping his hand off on a towel, his face a furious shade of red. Yuutarou patted his head and Kunimi snatched his basket as they passed. Kunimi sat between Yuutarou and Kageyama, digging through the pile of creams and masks. He found one he liked and put it on before flopping on his back. Yuutarou watched in amazement as he fell asleep.

 

“Well that was bullshit,” commented Oikawa, staring at him. Yuutarou shrugged and picked up Oikawa’s bag of nail polish. He dug through until he found a shade of blue he liked, and grabbed one of Kunimi’s hands.

 

“Matsukawa-san, tell us about that time you went to the petting zoo and that goose followed Oikawa-san home,” he said as he started painting Kunimi’s nails. Matsukawa grinned and Oikawa wailed and the world settled into balance.

 

-

 

“Is there a particular reason we were picking on Oikawa-san today?” Kunimi asked as they walked back to the dorms together. Kageyama had stayed at the flat and Ushijima lived off-campus, so it was only the two of them. Yuutarou grinned.

 

“Not especially,” he said. “But he lost a bet.”

 

“Yeah, Kageyama told me about that,” Kunimi said. “I feel kind of bad for him though.”

 

“For Oikawa-san?” Kunimi nodded.

 

“He’s trying so hard to keep himself together, and no one seems to care. He’s wrong about Ushijima-san not liking him back, but he’s only trying to save himself and the people he cares about a lot of pain. He’s just trying to do what he thinks is right, but people keep pushing him.” Yuutarou had a strange feeling that they were talking about two different things.

 

“But Ushijima-san _does_ like him back,” he said. “Is it so wrong for us to want him to be happy?”

 

Kunimi sighed, looking up at the stars. His skin was pale in the night, his delicate collar bones and long legs exposed without the need to cover up for warmth like Yuutarou did. Yuutarou stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from doing something stupid, like reaching out to feel if Kunimi’s cheek was as smooth as it looked.

 

“Oikawa-san deserves to be happy,” Kunimi said after so long that Yuutarou had almost forgotten what they had been talking about. “I just worry that we’re going about it the wrong way. Not everything works out like in stories.”

 

“Some things do,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi looked upward for a moment longer, then turned and smiled at Yuutarou. It was sweet and fond and utterly heartbroken.

 

“Some things do,” he agreed. They walked the rest of the way back to the dorms in silence that was not comfortable, but wasn’t uncomfortable either. Yuutarou lie awake in his bed that night, trying to figure out why Kunimi had looked so sad, and why that sadness had its own echo in the back of Yuutarou’s mind. For a long moment, he allowed himself to resent all the secrets around him, and to wish things were different.

 

He fell asleep with the image of Kunimi bathed in starlight etched on the backs of his eyelids.

 

-

 

The shrine on the hillside was old, probably about as old as the tree in the park. Akira could feel the centuries of magic, carefully cultivated and honed, as soon as he set foot on the first step. The feeling intensified with each torii they passed under, until they stood before the shrine itself and the sheer intensity of the magic nearly bowled Akira over. The door opened and an old woman stepped out.

 

“I was wondering when you would arrive,” she said, looking at Kageyama. She dragged her eyes along each of them, and Akira was left with the staggering sense that she now knew everything about each of them. She stopped when her eyes reached Kindaichi. “So this is the poor soul you sent it to,” she said. “Come here, boy.”

 

Kindaichi glanced at Akira before he stepped forward. The old woman held out a hand impatiently until Kindaichi let her have his own. She frowned.

 

“Which of you built this box?” she asked suddenly.

 

“I did,” Akira said. The woman looked at him, and all at once there was the too-familiar sensation of someone digging through his memories. She found the benchmark, and the years and years of hiding and stuffing his magic down as small as it would go.

 

“I don’t have to tell you, then, that it won’t hold,” she said.

 

“Of course you don’t have to tell me,” Akira snapped. “We’re not here to keep things the same, we’re here to fix it.”

 

The woman considered Akira, then Kageyama and Kindaichi in turn. She looked at Oikawa last, eyes sharp and unmerciful. “The four of you are all jumbled together in this mess,” she said. “There is a reason for that.”

 

“No shit,” snapped Oikawa. “Look, will you tell us how to fix this or not?”

 

The old woman smiled. Somehow, it was so much worse than the frowning had been. “Don’t think I don’t remember you, young man,” she purred. “The day you came storming up here demanding I fix both your body and your magic. All those empty threats. The two of you truly are more alike than either of you realize.”

 

“Please,” said Iwaizumi quietly. He bowed to the woman and said again, “Please.”

 

“ _You_ are not tied up in this, young man,” said the woman. Iwaizumi smiled a bit wryly.

 

“I’m tied up with him,” he said. “Whatever this idiot gets himself dragged into, I have to help drag him out. You know that.”

 

The woman considered him for a moment, then each of the others. She sighed, looking very old and very tired. “I cannot undo what has been done,” she said at last.

 

“Can you tell us how we can?” asked Akira. The woman turned and walked into the shrine. She left the door open.

 

“Is it a requirement for ancient priestesses that you have to be mysterious and unhelpful?” muttered Oikawa.

 

“The priestess at the shrine by my house is nice,” said Kindaichi. Akira couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Come on,” he said, tightening his grip on Kageyama’s hand. They stepped up onto the porch, and Akira held out his other hand for Kindaichi to take. They walked into the shrine in a chain, leaving Iwaizumi to drag Oikawa in behind them.

 

They found the woman in a small room near the back of the shrine, packed floor-to-ceiling with books. There was a small opening in the book-wall that led out to the garden, and a worn table piled with charts and maps and all manner of other papers. The woman stood between the table and the door, facing outward.

 

“Magic cannot be created or destroyed,” she said. “It cannot be transferred, either, not entirely. The magic we are dealing with here is more powerful than any other I have encountered. Adrift, it sought to latch on to any piece of the structure that had held it in place before. It followed the lines of energy that connect people together, and found the closest person it could to its keeper. In order to reverse this process, it must be transferred back along the same lines, from soul to soul, until it returns home.

 

“There is someone who can help with this process. We have not spoken in many years, but if you are to help yourselves, you must seek them out. It will be a long journey, though the distance is not far.”

 

“Will you get on with it?” snapped Oikawa. The woman kept her back to them, but Akira knew she was smiling. She lifted a weathered, bony hand, to point into the distance.

 

“At the very top of that hill there is a shrine that is sister to this one,” she said. “Seek it out, and its caretaker, and you will find the answers you seek. And many more.”

 

“Thank you,” said Akira after a pause where it became evident no one else was going to speak. She turned around at last and smiled once more, at Kindaichi.

 

“Do not be afraid,” she said quietly. “Be wary, but not afraid. Fear is what would be your undoing.” Kindaichi went stiff, then bowed. The woman turned her back to them and they trooped out in silence. The sun was setting.

 

“Well that was a load of garbage,” Oikawa snarled when they were outside once more. Iwaizumi smacked him.

 

“This is what you get,” he said. “Thanks to your shitty behavior, now _I_ get to wander all over the place to clean up your mess.”

 

“No one said you had to come, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa. “No one said I had to come either. The way I see it, this is between those three.”

 

“That’s _exactly_ why you have to go,” said Iwaizumi. “If you can’t see your own damn place in this, then someone’s gotta teach you.”

 

“Regardless,” Akira said, glancing at the gathering night. “We should go back before we make that decision. It’ll be dark soon, and we don’t need a broken ankle on top of everything else.” Iwaizumi looked up, then nodded at Akira.

 

“You’re right,” he said. “This isn’t a decision we should make here anyway.” Akira wanted to ask what he meant, but the oppressive magic in the atmosphere shifted around them and he closed his mouth. He followed Iwaizumi and Oikawa down the stairs in silence.

 

-*-


	28. Chapter 28

Compared to midterms and the end of the previous semester, early April was a breeze. Yuutarou wrote two papers, one on the uses of clover in various poultices and salves, and one on the decline of dwarfen mining rights in a globalizing economy. One was considerably more enjoyable than the other, but he made it through both without much trouble. He and Kunimi typed up their findings and formalized their spell layout to give to Ito-sensei to give to his colleagues at the wildlife preservation department. As soon as he got all the proposals, Ito-sensei took mysteriously ill and had to cancel the final.

 

“He sent me an email yesterday, saying the only reason he got away with that was because of how good our spell was.” Kunimi was laying on his stomach on the couch in the cafe, flipping lazily through a book of incantations. “If he’d tried that without something stellar from his students, they’d have probably fired him.”

 

“It wasn’t even that big of a spell,” Yuutarou muttered from under the economics textbook he was using to block the light.

 

“Apparently it’s enough to work on,” Kunimi said. “Ito-sensei said we might be getting grant offers to develop it further. Just so you know.”

 

“Can we just give it to someone else to develop?” Yuutarou groaned. “If I ever have to tweak that spell again I will set it on fire myself.”

 

“We can,” Kunimi hummed. “It _would_ look good on grad school applications, though. Which, if you want to become a physialist…”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Yuutarou groaned. “I’m gonna be in school forever.”

 

“Hey, at least you’ll have a job at the end of this,” Kunimi said. “I’m gonna be at that department store until I die. Which will be soon, because I’m going to blow it up with me inside it.”

 

“Just make sure Iwaizumi-san isn’t there when you do,” Yuutarou droned. “Have you signed up for next term yet?”

 

“No, I’m putting it off. You?” Yuutarou groaned again, louder this time. “That good, huh?”

 

“Apparently, if you want to heal people, you have to learn anatomy. Even if you’re focusing on the medicinal side of it.”

 

“So what else are you in?” Yuutarou could hear Kunimi smiling at him. He let his book drop into his lap and counted on his fingers.

 

“Basic anatomy, advanced herbal theory, organismal diversity, o-chem two, and another art lab so I don’t go nuts.”

 

“Sounds fun,” Kunimi said. “I’ll think of you whenever I’m busy _not_ doing any of that.”

 

“You’re so kind,” Yuutarou droned. “Truly, a saint. Are all sociology majors like you, or am I just lucky?”

 

“Very few of them have my sunshiny disposition,” Kunimi said with absolutely no intonation. Yuutarou giggled.

 

“It’s ‘cause you’re such a warm person,” he wheezed. Kunimi lifted his gaze from his book in order to give Yuutarou the iciest glare he could muster. It only made Yuutarou laugh harder.

 

“Hey, no laughing in my cafe,” shouted Oikawa. Yuutarou couldn’t breathe. He wiped at his face in an attempt to calm down, and looked at Kunimi.

 

Kunimi was laughing too, just a little. He was mostly smiling, watching Yuutarou laugh with so much fondness in his eyes it made Yuutarou’s chest hurt. He smiled back, and what with the entire universe being born in his ribcage he found he couldn’t quite laugh anymore.

 

 _God, you_ _’re an even bigger sap than I am_ , Oikawa thought at him.

 

 _So when_ _’s that picnic date scheduled for?_ Yuutarou shot back, without taking his eyes off of Kunimi. He rode the feeling as long as he could, until the floor dropped out from under him and he remembered that his little crush was unrequited. He kept smiling as he turned back to his economics book.

 

“Are you doing anything for break?” Kunimi asked suddenly. Yuutarou shrugged.

 

“Probably the same thing I did for winter break,” he said. “Sitting around and trying not to get lonely.”

 

“If it’s any help, you’ll have me here,” Kunimi said. Yuutarou grinned.

 

“A huge help, actually,” he said. “At the end of last term, Tsukishima and Hinata went home, so pretty much the only people around were Kageyama and Oikawa-san. I don’t do well without a lot of people around.”

 

“What do you do over summer?” Kunimi asked.

 

“Usually I convince my aunt to hire me to help out around her shop,” Yuutarou replied. “It’s boring as hell, and there’s nothing to do in town, but the other part-timers can be pretty entertaining. And my scholarship doesn’t do much to cover during breaks, so the extra cash is a huge help.”

 

“Where does your aunt live?”

 

“This tiny little nothing town on the beach. There’s like nothing there, but it’s where Oikawa-san grew up. Oh-” Yuutarou chuckled at himself. “You probably know it. Kageyama was born there too.”

 

“I know it,” Kunimi breathed. He glanced at Yuutarou, and then away.

 

 _Stop it,_ rang Oikawa’s voice in Yuutarou’s head. _You_ _’re making him sad. I don’t know why, but change the subject before you make it worse._

 

“Hey, there’s-”

 

Kunimi’s phone buzzed, cutting Yuutarou’s efforts short. Kunimi glanced at the caller id, grimaced, then answered it.

 

“What do you want, Bokuto?” he growled. “If you wanted polite you should have called someone else. No. _No._ ” He glanced at Yuutarou. “Bokuto, we have finals this week. _Yes_ that means we’re too busy. Yes, he’s too busy too. I don’t care if you call Suga. Tell him I said hi. Tell _him_ I said to fuck off. Okay. You too. Bye.”

 

“I think you just broke his heart,” Yuutarou said as Kunimi hung up and tossed his phone onto the coffee table. Kunimi shrugged.

 

“The last thing I have the energy for tonight is a family dinner,” he said.

 

“That’s fine,” Yuutarou said, “but don’t come crying to me when Sugawara-san hunts you down and drags you in anyway.”

 

“He won’t.”

 

“You sound pretty confident,” Yuutarou said.

 

“I am. Suga knows not to fuck with me during finals week.” Yuutarou grinned.

 

“There’s a story there,” he said.

 

“There’s a story behind most of the things I say. You’re not hearing this one until you actually study for your econ final.” Yuutarou pouted, but Kunimi didn’t even look up to see. “Two chapter reviews. Then I’ll tell you.”

 

“This is bribery,” Yuutarou muttered, pulling out a set of blank index cards.

 

“It is,” Kunimi agreed. “It’s working.”

 

Yuutarou didn’t answer that. He let himself get lost in the focus leeching through him from his hot chocolate and started copying down vocabulary and key concepts. Outside, the sun set unheeded.

 

-

 

The last of Yuutarou’s finals was his art lab, and that was little more than a presentation of his best work of the semester. He had agonized over his choice, forcing his friends to look at them and give opinions that he disregarded as soon as they were given and locking himself into no fewer than three existential-crisis showers. He finally settled on the chalk pastel of the burning field, largely because it was one of his few drawings with any color to speak of. He preferred charcoal.

 

It was his best work. He knew that, had poured over all of the others and been as objective as he could, but it was still hard to pull it out and present it to his class. There was something personal to it, something about it that made Yuutarou feel vulnerable. He wondered if the figure in the center of the inferno was himself, but something told him it wasn’t. Whoever it was, though, they were very dear to him.

 

It was a difficult feeling to explain.

 

“I think it might have been a dream,” he said at last, glancing at the drawing and then back at his classmates. “Or perhaps a very old memory. Something I can’t quite recall the specifics of.”

 

“Some things are better off unremembered,” commented the professor. Yuutarou considered.

 

“Some things,” he agreed. “I think this piece is about deciding whether something is or not. That’s why I called it Unmemory.”

 

“Very nice, Kindaichi-kun,” said the professor. Yuutarou bowed and returned to his seat in a tempest of quiet emotion.

 

There had been a burning field. He knew it had existed at one point, he just couldn’t remember when, or where, or why. And the person in the center, that person had meant more to Yuutarou than his own safety. There had been a barrier, something that stopped him from getting close to them while they shattered.

 

There had been a seraph. A seraph who had come and attacked someone Yuutarou loved dearly. Yuutarou had watched him wrestle control away from that someone and force them to burn, to possibly hurt themself.

 

Blue eyes, wide and happy. A fall of silky black hair, pushed back behind an ear and held in place with a flower. Yuutarou had run his fingertips down the length of Kunimi’s neck and wondered at how soft his skin was. There had been something there, something that could change everything, something that-

 

There was nothing. The last of Yuutarou’s classmates had presented her piece and Yuutarou’s thoughts had disappeared. Around him, people started packing up. Slowly, Yuutarou looked up toward the door, where Oikawa was waiting for him.

 

 _I_ _’m sorry,_ Oikawa said. _I was really hoping you wouldn_ _’t go looking for it. But I have to protect Tobio._

 

 _Oikawa-san, please tell me what_ _’s happening,_ Yuutarou whispered. Oikawa smiled, that endlessly sad smile that Yuutarou hated most of all.

 

 _I will,_ he promised. _But as soon as I do, you_ _’re going to forget. And then I’m going to forget, too. It’s better that way. Is anyone going to be using this room in the next hour?_

 

 _Yeah, but there_ _’s a place upstairs where we can talk._ Oikawa nodded and released Yuutarou to gather his things. They marched up to the fourth floor drawing room in silence.

 

“Tell me what’s happening,” Yuutarou whispered once the door was shut. Oikawa sighed and dropped onto the drawing horse.

 

“That drawing is a cornerstone memory,” he said. “You remember what those are, right?”

 

“Yeah, a memory that’s key to the foundation of a person’s psyche,” Yuutarou answered. “So why can’t I remember it?”

 

“You’re missing a lot of memories,” Oikawa said. “All the memories of your childhood with Kunimi-chan. Tobio took them away from you, in order to protect you.”

 

“Protect me from what?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“A little from yourself, and a little from him. That hole in your memory, the one with the block, is the worst case of Post Traumatic Magical Stress Disorder I’ve ever seen. And that’s why, once I tell you the whole story, I’m going to call Tobio and he’s going to take away your memories, and mine.” Yuutarou stared at Oikawa for a moment, then nodded, more to himself than anything. He sat next to the drawing horse so he could lean his head on Oikawa’s knee.

 

“Tell me,” he said. Oikawa carded his fingers through Yuutarou’s hair.

 

“Once upon a time,” he said in his very best storyteller manner, “there lived two boys, on the edge of an ancient forest.”

 

-

 

Tsuyoshi was not home when they returned to Kageyama’s parents’ apartment. There was no sign that anyone had been there at all, or even that Kageyama and Akira had been living there for several days. It was just as spotless and staged as ever. Akira resisted the urge to knock a knick knack off a shelf.

 

"Are you gonna be okay if we wait until morning?" Iwaizumi asked. Kindaichi shrugged.

 

"I guess?" he said. "It's not like we have much choice."

 

"Call your aunt," said Akira. "Tell her you ran into me and you're staying over. Just in case anything happens."

 

"Don't you think we should tell her what's going on?" Kindaichi asked even as he accepted Iwaizumi's phone from him.

 

"She's the aunt that hates psychics, Kindaichi. She'd flip if she knew." Kindaichi nodded and tapped away at the phone. He stepped into the hallway to talk, leaving an awkward and heavy silence in his wake.

 

"We need to figure out something to eat first of all," Iwaizumi said suddenly. Akira nodded.

 

"Tsuyoushi-san went grocery shopping the other day, so I can see what there is," he said.

 

"You'll help," snapped Iwaizumi, looking at Oikawa. Oikawa opened his mouth to argue with Iwaizumi, but shut it before he said a word. He followed Akira into the kitchen in silence.

 

There wasn't much that Akira knew what to do with, but there was plenty of rice and some pre-sliced beef and some vegetables. Akira handed the vegetables to Oikawa to chop and started digging through cabinets for a wok.

 

Kindaichi found them there several minutes later and hovered on the edge of the kitchen. Oikawa's chopping grew more and more agitated until all at once he slammed his knife down.

 

"What?" he snarled, whirling on Kindaichi.

 

"Lay off," Akira droned without looking up from the stove. "Don't take your insecurities out on him."

 

"Inse- You do realize what it means to have that much psychic power in the hands of someone with no idea how to use it, right?" Akira nodded.

 

"Yes, I saw," he said. "I've been all through that memory, more times than either of us cares to remember. But putting him on edge like that isn't going to do you any favors."

 

"You've been through the memory," Oikawa repeated. "What, you went looking for it?"

 

"Kageyama showed it to me," Akira answered.

 

"Of course he did," Oikawa snarled. "Gloating over how he took down the most pr-"

 

"Don't you dare finish that sentence." Akira pulled the fire away from the stove and held it in front of him. "He showed me because he had just seen my worst memory and agreed to show me his. He has nightmares about that day, so bad that the thought of coming here and possibly running into you sent him into a panic attack. You have no idea how much he's gone through because of what happened."

 

"How much _he's_ gone through?" Oikawa laughed, a cruel, bitter sound. "How much _he's_ gone through. _He_ wasn't the one paralyzed for years. _He_ wasn't the one who was cut off from his magic, who could have..." Oikawa balled his hands into fists. "No. You have no idea, not the slightest clue, what it's like to come face to face with the person who ruined you."

 

"I do," Akira said quietly. He released the flame back to its place on the burner and scooped up the pile of sliced onions. "I see him every time I look in a mirror." Oikawa glowered at Akira and Akira pretended he was the only person in the kitchen. It worked, until-

 

“Kunimi?” Kindaichi’s voice was the barest of whispers, and so full of hurt that it tore Akira’s chest in two.

 

“Oikawa-san, could you please give us some privacy.” Akira held onto the countertop and waited until Oikawa left, his presence fading in quiet, uneven footsteps. Akira took a deep breath to steel himself, then turned to face Kindaichi.

 

“What did you mean, when you said…” He trailed off, looking down uncertainly. Akira sighed through his nose.

 

“I ruined myself,” he said softly. “I knew I was too powerful, and that I wasn’t getting the training I needed. But I wanted to stay with you, so I kept pretending. And you saw how well that worked out.”

 

“Kunimi, you-”

 

“I brought this upon myself.” Akira tried to stop talking, but once he had started there was no stopping the words spilling forth in a tumult of sound and emotion. “I kept telling myself that it would be fine, but I never really believed it. I knew when I was a kid that I couldn’t have friends, but I let you in anyway, even though I knew someday I would end up hurting you. I went to the same middle school as you because I was pretending I could hold it together longer than I could. And then when it all blew up I tried to disappear without finishing the job. I didn’t make it so that you wouldn’t want to see me again because I didn’t want to give up on you. But I should have, I should have made sure you hated me, or forgot me, made sure you knew what I-”

 

A pair of long, skinny arms folded around Akira and he found himself crushed to Kindaichi’s chest. Kindaichi held him like he never wanted to let go, like everything Akira had refused to allow himself to want. He pressed his nose into Akira’s hair and held even tighter.

 

“Don’t,” he whispered fiercely. “Don’t you dare. I could never hate you, and forgetting you would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me.”

 

“I’ll only ruin you too,” Akira breathed. Kindaichi shook his head and squeezed tighter.

 

“You are the best part of me,” he said. “The only thing that could ruin me is losing you.”

 

Akira opened his mouth to answer, but right at that moment the stove caught fire. He sprung away from Kindaichi to calm the flames, and his own racing thoughts.

 

“When this is over,” he said, his back still facing Kindaichi, “I’m going away. And we won’t see each other again.”

 

“We’ll see about that,” Kindaichi snarled. Akira turned to argue, but Kindaichi was already storming away. Akira was alone.

 

-*-

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

Spring break was so infinitely better than winter break that Yuutarou almost couldn’t believe it had only been a few months since then. Tsukishima and Hinata had both gone home again, but Yuutarou felt none of the crushing loneliness he had wallowed in back in December.

 

Kunimi had the first two days of break off from work, so he let Sugawara and Kuroo drag them both out shopping with the whole family. Maybe it was the coffee, or maybe the company or the relief of having gotten through another semester, but when Bokuto dragged them into a makeup shop he didn’t protest. He wandered the aisles with Kunimi, trying to guess what everything was for.

 

“You know,” he said, looking at a rack of samples, “You’d look pretty good in some of this stuff.”

 

“I’ve worn it once or twice,” Kunimi said. “Not in a while, though. Maybe I’ll get some.”

 

Yuutarou watched Kunimi pour over the rack of eyeliners, trepidation swirling in the pit of his stomach. Kunimi found one he liked and picked up the sampler, leaning close to the mirror. His movements were quick and practiced as he drew a thin line above his lashes, flicking out at the corner. The tip of his tongue poked out of his lips as he did the lower lids. He looked up at Yuutarou, and Yuutarou’s heart stopped.

 

“What do you think?” he asked. Yuutarou blinked and tried to remember what words were.

 

“Uh-” Kunimi’s eyes seemed so much bigger, so much bluer. His lashes were so long, dark and thick and utterly entrancing. Kunimi had been attractive before, but now…

 

“It looks dumb, doesn’t it?” Laughter colored Kunimi’s voice, but it sounded strained. He turned to grab a wipe from the shelf. “That’s why I don’t really wear it. I can’t pull it off the way-”

 

“Wait.” Yuutarou grabbed Kunimi’s wrist before he could wipe the eyeliner away. “Sorry. I just- you look incredible.” Yuutarou could feel his cheeks growing hotter the longer Kunimi stared at him.

 

“I do?” he whispered. He lowered his hand, but for some reason Yuutarou didn’t let go. He really needed to let go.

 

“You do,” he agreed. “If you don’t like it that’s fine, but I think you look really good in it.”

 

Kunimi didn’t answer, but he did buy the eyeliner. All through the rest of the day, Yuutarou had trouble looking directly at Kunimi, and the little bag hanging from his wrist haunted Yuutarou’s thoughts. Even when they had long parted ways and Yuutarou lay in bed, he couldn’t get the memory of Kunimi’s big blue eyes out of his head, or the giddy feeling out of his heart.

 

Things had been so good that when he woke to a timid knock on his door at three in the morning that night he didn’t even think to be concerned.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kunimi blurted as soon as Yuutarou opened the door. Yuutarou blinked down at him, still half-asleep. He was wearing sweatpants that were a little too short for him and a sweatshirt that was a little too big. His feet were bare.

 

“For what?” he yawned.

 

“For waking you up,” Kunimi muttered. His shoulders were hunched and he wrung his fingers together. “Sorry. I’ll let you get back to-”

 

“Kunimi,” Yuutarou mumbled, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

 

Kunimi did as he was told, perching awkwardly on the couch and looking at his feet. Yuutarou scrubbed some of the sleep out of his eyes and sat beside him. “You wanna talk about it?” Kunimi shook his head. “You wanna play a video game?” Kunimi nodded. Yuutarou set up Tsukishima’s console and handed Kunimi a controller in silence.

 

“I had a nightmare,” Kunimi said after an hour of zombie-slaying, so quietly that Yuutarou almost didn’t hear him.

 

“You okay?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but Kageyama is staying at Oikawa’s tonight, and I didn’t really feel like being alone.” Kunimi curled in on himself a little tighter and stared at the television.

 

“I’m here,” Yuutarou said. Nothing else was really needed. Kunimi shuffled over until he could lean against Yuutarou’s side. They continued playing until Kunimi fell asleep and Yuutarou paused the game to look down at him.

 

His face was paler than usual in the light from the television, his hair casting dark shadows across his cheeks. There were faint smudges under his eyes, too dark to be from exhaustion. His lips were parted lightly and his every breath puffed against Yuutarou’s arm. He was so very warm.

 

Yuutarou closed his eyes for just a moment, and in that moment he drifted away entirely.

 

-

 

“Is there a reason Kageyama is staring at me like I murdered his family?” Yuutarou asked Oikawa the next day. His back and neck were killing him and he had gotten precious little sleep the night before, too much of a morning person to sleep past eight. Kunimi had been in his arms when he had woken up, curled against his chest and whining adorably when Yuutarou moved. He had been so warm and so sweet in his sleep that it had nearly killed Yuutarou to peel himself away. Oikawa snorted at him.

 

“That’s why,” he said. “He’s trying to decide how to warn you not to break Kunimi-chan’s heart.”

 

“I’d have to have it in order to break it,” Yuutarou pointed out. He winced and tried to find a position in the armchair that didn’t hurt.

 

“Why do you think he’s getting the talk ready?” Oikawa asked. Yuutarou rolled his eyes at him.

 

“Don’t make fun of me, Oikawa-san,” he said. “At least not when I’m so tired.”

 

“You can’t fight back when you’re tired,” Oikawa said. “I like sleepy, not-sassy Kindaichi much better.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Oikawa nodded in satisfaction and went back to his magazine. Yuutarou fished his phone out, bored.

 

ME: [Let me know when your shift is over. I’ll buy dinner.]

 

“Kindaichi, stop planning dates, I’m gonna puke.” Oikawa didn’t look up.

 

“You were literally planning your wedding an hour ago,” Yuutarou said.

 

“No I wasn’t!” Oikawa cried.

 

“You were wondering how to fit three grooms at a single altar. You projected the whole thing right at me.” Oikawa shot him a glare that would cripple lesser men. Yuutarou ignored him in favor of reading an incoming text.

 

KUNIMI: [I’m not off until eight tonight. Unless I burn this place down before then.]

 

ME: [Don’t start any fires, Kunimi. I can do a late dinner.]

 

KUNIMI: [You don’t do anything late you were up at dawn this morning]

 

ME: [I was up at eight.]

 

KUNIMI: [Exactly]

 

“God you’re disgusting,” Oikawa said cheerfully.

 

“Don’t you have a job to be doing?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“Probably. You’re way more interesting, though.” Yuutarou rolled his eyes. “No, I mean it. It’s literally painful, watching you try to pretend you’re not-”

 

“Please don’t finish that sentence, Oikawa-san.” Oikawa huffed ineffectively at him.

 

“Kindaichi, you’ve got a picture of him as your phone background.”

 

“So?” Oikawa gave him a condescending smile.

 

“So that’s a thing you do with a boyfriend,” he said.

 

“I’ve always had pictures of my friends on my background,” Yuutarou argued.

 

“Selfies! You were in all of those! This is different.” He snatched Yuutarou’s phone from him and put in the password. “Look, you’re nowhere to be found here. You took this when he wasn’t paying attention, didn’t you?”

 

“What? It’s a nice picture.” Oikawa tossed his phone back.

 

“If you don’t understand the significance of having a candid picture of Kunimi-chan smiling on your phone then I can’t teach you, Kindaichi. But trust me when I say it makes you look like his boyfriend.” Yuutarou rolled his eyes and picked up his sketchbook. Oikawa glared at him for a moment longer before he stalked off to go do his job for once. Yuutarou sighed and set his pencil down. He didn’t let himself attract Oikawa’s attention by hoping he wasn’t listening. He just picked up his phone.

 

ME: [Random survey: what is everyone’s phone background?]

 

SHE DESERVES BETTER: [A selfie with Shouyou, why do you ask?????]

 

ME: [I want to prove Oikawa-san wrong about something. Anyone else?]

 

YAMAMAMA: [Mine is a slideshow of Kentarou petting dogs]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [TADASHI THATS ADORABLE]

 

ICE BITCH: [Tadashi that’s disgusting.]

 

YAMAMAMA: [Yeah, because yours is so much better Tsukki]

 

ME: [What’s yours Tsukishima?]

 

ICE BITCH: [Default wallpaper.]

 

THE LITERAL SUN:[Kei dont lie]

 

ICE BITCH: [The eternal void of my soul.]

 

YAMAMAMA: [His wallpaper is a picture of Shouyou doing Natsu’s hair]

 

SHE DESERVES BETTER: [That’s adorable!]

 

ME: [That is adorable. What’s yours Hinata?]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [A picture tadashi took of me Kei and Hitoka asleep on your couch]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [And since hes probably working Kageyamas is a picture of Oikawa san but I think Oikawa san did it for him cause before it was the default]

 

Yuutarou scowled at his phone. None of his friends were helpful and he was disowning them all.

 

SHE DESERVES BETTER: [Why the survey Kindaichi???]

 

Yuutarou glanced over his shoulder at Oikawa, smiling smugly to himself as he wiped down tables. He frowned harder.

 

ME: [Oikawa-san says that my phone background is a boyfriend thing, not a friend thing.]

 

YAMAMAMA: [Screenshot?]

 

ME: [attachement: 1 img]

 

YAMAMAMA: [Okay]

 

YAMAMAMA: [I’m gonna be totally honest with you]

 

YAMAMAMA: [That’s pretty damn gay]

 

ME: [As helpful as that is, Yamaguchi, is it really such a strange thing for me to have a picture of my friend on my phone background?]

 

YAMAMAMA: [Depends. Whered you get it?]

 

ME: [I took it at one of the tests for our spell.]

 

YAMAMAMA: [It doesn’t look posed]

 

ME: [It wasn’t.]

 

YAMAMAMA: [Then no it’s not weird at all]

 

ME: [See? I told Oikawa-san!]

 

YAMAMAMA: [Lots of people have pictures of their boyfriends for backgrounds. It’s not weird at all.]

 

ICE BITCH: [Savage.]

 

ME: [Thank you, you were all the opposite of helpful.]

 

ME: [Except you, Yachi-san, you were perfect as always.]

 

SHE DESERVES BETTER: [Sorry Kindaichi-kun, but Yamaguchi is right. You should probably tell him how you feel.]

 

ME: [Yachi-san I trusted you.]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [Are you gonna tell him???????????]

 

ME: [There’s nothing to tell.]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [Dont make me come back there Kindaichi]

 

THE LITERAL SUN: [I will get on the train and tell him myself]

 

ME: [No you won’t.]

 

ICE BITCH: [No you won’t.]

 

ICE BITCH: [But if Kindaichi keeps moping around the dorms this term I might.]

 

ME: [I dare you.]

 

YAMAMAMA: [FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT]

 

SHE DESERVES BETTER: [Please don’t fight.]

 

SHE DESERVES BETTER: [Kindaichi, if you want I can do a reading for you, to ease your worries.]

 

ME: [I won’t object, but it’s not necessary, Yachi-san. I’m not worried, I just don’t feel the need to tell him about something that’s just a little crush. It’ll fade with time.]

 

Yuutarou hoped it would fade with time. He watched the conversation shift to Hinata’s panic over Natsu’s first year of high school and let himself rest on his fondness for his friends. They loved him, truly, but they didn’t really get it. Yuutarou didn’t feel things the same way they did. He never had. So this crush, if a crush was really what it was, was entirely new territory for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had liked someone, and the thought of genuinely falling in love was baffling. It would fade, because if it didn’t then Yuutarou didn’t know what he would do.

 

It would fade because Yuutarou needed it to fade.

 

-

 

In the morning, Tsuyoushi called to tell Kageyama he was leaving town for a few days, to meet Kageyama’s mother while she was in Tokyo, and that he and Akira were welcome to the emergency cash stored in his dresser.

 

“Well, that’s convenient,” Iwaizumi commented, staring at Kageyama’s phone sitting on the table. Kageyama shrugged.

 

“They’re always out of town,” he said.

 

“Well, if that’s all, then we should get going before it gets too late,” Oikawa said. “I want to get this over with as soon as possible.”

 

“Did you even sleep last night?” Akira asked, eying Oikawa’s untouched-looking futon in the middle of the living room floor.

 

“He doesn’t sleep,” Iwaizumi grumbled. “Kept me up half the night muttering to himself.”

 

“Iwa-chan needs lots of beauty sleep,” Oikawa said solemnly. Iwaizumi threw a pillow a this head.

 

“There should be some tents in the closet,” Kageyama said softly. “We may need to stop in town for food, or sunscreen.”

 

“Let’s just see what your parents have, and then we’ll figure out what we still need,” Akira said. Kageyama nodded but didn’t look at him. Akira had spent the night in Kageyama’s bed, to let Kindaichi have the guest room and to calm his own anxiety. It had taken hours to fall asleep, the spare inch of space between them too full of emptiness. Without Kageyama’s magic linking them together, Akira felt adrift, unable to touch him at all. Following Kageyama through the apartment to the storage closet int he back, Akira felt more disconnected than ever before.

 

“I hate this,” he whispered. Kageyama glanced over Akira’s shoulder to make sure no one could hear, then sighed.

 

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” he mumbled. “I tried to tell you, though.”

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Akira snapped. “You didn’t drag me into anything. I did the dragging, remember?” Kageyama looked down and Akira bit back a sigh. He reached out to settle a hand on Kageyama’s arm. “I mean that I miss you,” he said. “You feel so far away.”

 

“Maybe it’s better that way,” Kageyama muttered.

 

“You’re still planning on getting rid of it, aren’t you?” Akira grumbled. “When are you going to learn that that’s not going to be enough to get rid of me?”

 

“It will be eventually,” Kageyama said. He turned to rummage through the closet. “Everyone always leaves eventually.”

 

“Not everyone,” Akira growled. “I’ve done my leaving. Now you’re stuck with me.”

 

“Help me carry this.”

 

“Stop deflecting.”

 

“It’s heavy.”

 

“You’re a moron.”

 

“I’ll go ask Iwaizumi-san to help.”

 

“You’re _my_ moron.” Akira almost won himself a smile with that. But Kageyama realized what was happening and stifled it before it could fully grow. Akira took the bag Kageyama was holding and slung it over his shoulder. Kageyama grabbed the other and together they trooped out into the living room. Kindaichi watched them with that new sadness in his eyes.

 

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Iwaizumi said, taking Kageyama’s bag and setting it on the floor. He pulled it open and a stale, musty scent filled the living room.

 

“It’s been a long time since we went camping,” Kageyama said with a shrug.

 

Inside the bag were the pieces to a tent, a lantern, a pair of flashlights, a sleeping bag, and a little metal pan with a set of silverware tied to it. Akira’s bag revealed another tent, two more sleeping bags, more flashlights, a worn old gps, and two more pans with silverware. There was a sweater at the bottom that Kageyama very carefully set aside.

 

“Okay so it looks like we just buy food, bug spray, and sunscreen,” Iwaizumi said. “We can get the other necessities from my house. Do you three have good hiking clothes here?”

 

“I’ll have to go back to my aunt’s to grab them, but yeah,” said Kindaichi. Iwaizumi nodded.

 

“We can stop there on our way out of town,” he said. “I figure the shrine is gonna be about a day and a half’s walk, so we should get started as soon as we can. Kageyama, can you grab some more bags so we can distribute this stuff a little better?” Kageyama nodded and left the room. Akira watched him go, frustrated that watching was all he could seem to do.

 

“What’s up with him?” Kindaichi asked, quietly enough that only Akira could hear. Oikawa leaned subconsciously closer, until Akira’s ocean of silence made him startle and look up. Akira stared pointedly at him until he threw his hands up and looked away.

 

“He’s having trouble adjusting, and won’t admit it to himself,” Akira whispered. “He thinks he’s better off without his magic, but all it’s doing is cutting him off from everyone around him. And I can’t reach him like I used to, so I can’t make him see that.”

 

“About that…” Kindaichi looked nervous, so Akira twined their fingers together. “Kunimi, why would you sign up for that? You know how dangerous it is.”

 

“I do,” Akira agreed. “But the need outweighed the risk. I don’t regret my choice, Kindaichi, and nothing you say will make me.” Akira looked down at their joined hands, resting on Kindaichi’s knee. “I need him as much as he needs me,” he said softly.

 

“As long as you know what you’re doing.” Akira looked up, surprised. Kindaichi shrugged. “I figure my aunt and sister probably don’t know the whole story,” he said. “ _I_ don’t trust him, but if you do then that’s good enough for me. You don’t trust anyone.”

 

“ _You_ trust everyone,” Akira pointed out. Kindaichi shrugged.

 

“There are exceptions to every rule,” he said. “Besides, I only don’t trust him because I’m worried about you. I’ve always been worried about people trying to take you away from me. He’ll change my mind by the time this is over, I’m sure of it.”

 

Kageyama came back with the bags, his eyes catching on Akira and Kindaichi. He knelt beside Iwaizumi and started sorting things into bags. Akira excused himself to change and grab another set of clothes from his bag, but it was little more than an excuse to breathe. Even in Kageyama’s bedroom, he could feel Oikawa watching him, and Kageyama’s magic pulling at him through Kindaichi. The tentative foundations he had built over the past few months were starting to crumble around him, and there was no time to shore them up. For better or worse, the five of them were on this path, and there would be no turning back until the reached its end.

 

It was going to be a long couple of days, Akira thought grimly as he dug around in Kageyama’s bag for a better pair of shoes. He only hoped they would reach the end of them intact.

 

-*-


	30. Chapter 30

Yuutarou didn’t know what possessed him to take eight am classes four days a week, but he regretted it as soon as classes began again. He may have been a morning person, but even he didn’t truly begin his day until eight-thirty or so, no matter how well-rested he was.

 

“That’s what you get for being a freak,” Kunimi teased him on Wednesday afternoon as they sat together in the cafe. He was curled against the arm of the couch, close enough to swat at Yuutarou’s foot every time it drifted too close to his face. Yuutarou sprawled sideways in the armchair, head and legs hanging over the arms. Kunimi was wearing eyeliner again, and Yuutarou found it much safer to just not look at him.

 

“Right, because piling all your classes into two days a week isn’t going to make you hate those two days,” Yuutarou replied. Kunimi shrugged.

 

“Hey, I added a Friday class, just so you wouldn’t feel like a complete loser. And it gets out right before yours starts, so I can watch you walk into the lecture hall and laugh at you.” Yuutarou kicked lazily in Kunimi’s general direction.

 

“Tell me about your classes,” he said suddenly.

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“Anything. Read me the syllabi if you have to, but all I can think about right now is o-chem and that needs to stop.”

 

“Ito-sensei is my magical trauma counseling professor,” Kunimi said.

 

“No kidding?” Kunimi shrugged.

 

“Yeah, most of the people in the class had had him before, though. I didn’t even realize until he came in the first day.”

 

“Was he late?” Kunimi smirked.

 

“Only a little,” he said. “Seems like he takes this class a little more seriously. But it’s nice to know he’s not a complete crackpot, you know?”

 

“That just means he’s gonna pester you about the spell all semester,” Yuutarou pointed out. Kunimi’s smirk drooped into a grimace.

 

“It might be easier if we actually do what he wants, huh?” he mused.

 

“For you,” Yuutarou said.

 

“If it’s hard on me, it’ll be hard on you,” Kunimi warned. “I’ll make sure of it.” Yuutarou flopped backwards with a groan.

 

“Hey, man, I’m in four upper-division science classes this term. Cut me some slack.” Kunimi shook his head.

 

“We should talk about that spell, though,” he said. “Do you want to go forward with it?”

 

“What do you think?” Yuutarou asked the ceiling. Kunimi smacked at his foot.

 

“I think that this is as much your work as it is mine and I’m not doing it alone. But I also think that it could make a difference in the world, or whatever.” Yuutarou could hear the grimace in Kunimi’s voice.

 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Ito-sensei,” Yuutarou teased. “What’s next, are you gonna sell all your possessions and live a life in service of the less-fortunate?”

 

“I already put up with you. I don’t know how much more unfortunate someone can be.” Yuutarou kicked at him again, not even coming close to his mark. When he dropped his foot back to its proper place, Kunimi closed a summer-warm hand around his ankle. Yuutarou closed his eyes and let the warmth leech into his leg.

 

“If you’re willing to go through the extra effort to do this,” he said quietly, “then I guess I am too. D’you wanna look over the grant offers now, or wait to see if any more come in first?”

 

“How many have you gotten?” Kunimi asked.

 

“Two.”

 

“I’ve got three. Let’s at least see if they’re the same people.” Yuutarou hauled himself upright with a groan that he exaggerated just to see if Kunimi would smile. He did, barely. Yuutarou counted it as a win regardless as he shoved his armchair closer to the couch so that Kunimi could balance his laptop across both arms. Yuutarou pulled out his phone to compare.

 

When Kunimi opened his email, there was a new one sitting at the top of his inbox, labeled **Internship Offer - Fire Protection Spell**. Yuutarou glanced down to see the same waiting for him.

 

“Yoshikawa Enterprises,” Yuutarou mumbled as Kunimi clicked on the email. “Never heard of them.”

 

“Me neither,” Kunimi said. Yuutarou shifted closer so he could read off of Kunimi’s screen.

 

_To Kunimi Akira-san and Kindaichi Yuutarou-san,_

 

_We here at Yoshikawa Enterprises value the will to create a better world. It has come to our attention that you have displayed such a will in the creation of your fire-protection spell. We have been in contact with Ito Takashi regarding the parameters of this spell, and are very interested in aiding you in its development and possible presentation before the Magic High Council._

 

_In accordance with this interest, we would like to offer the two of you paid internships at Yoshikawa Enterprises, for the duration of the spell_ _’s development and presentation. During said internships, you will have the tools to further your spell and your magical educations, under our mentorship. Please contact us if you are at all interested in such a pursuit, and we will be in touch with further details._

 

_Yours,_

_Himura Akira_

_Vice President of Outreach and Development,_

_Yoshikawa Enterprises_

 

Yuutarou waited while Kunimi read it over again, not really sure what to make of it. Of the other proposals he’d received, one had been a flat offer to take over the spell with his name mentioned in the development team, and the other had been a request to purchase the spell, and leave his name off of it. He hadn’t expected something with an internship attached.

 

“What do you think?” he asked quietly.

 

“I think I want to do more research into these people before I decide,” Kunimi said. “I had one purchase offer, one promise of a job offer, and one internship with nothing about the spell.”

 

“Yeah I got a lot of the same,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi typed the company name into a search browser and started scrolling through results.

 

“These people are all over the place,” he said. “Agriculture, clean energy, steel production, technology, _historic restoration_. Wonder why we’ve never heard of them before.”

 

“Looks like they’re really behind-the-scenes,” Yuutarou said, pointing at an article. “Look, this is that bionic leg thing that came out a few years back. Says here they were part of the development.” Kunimi frowned and clicked on a few more links. “What’s up?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“I don’t like it,” he said. “Something about it seems off to me.”

 

“Well, we don’t have to reply right away,” Yuutarou said. “We can do more research before we make a decision.” Kunimi nodded, distracted.

 

“Yeah,” he said slowly. He blinked a couple of times, and looked up at Yuutarou. “I’m gonna talk to Ito-sensei about this. Wanna come with?”

 

“Sure,” Yuutarou said. “Let’s do it Friday before your class.”

 

“Sounds great.” Kunimi turned back to his computer and Yuutarou lost him to the endless search results. It was fine, though. He already had reading to get through, and if he didn’t start reviewing his anatomy work now he was going to regret it later. The cafe disappeared into white noise and a warm presence, and Yuutarou set to studying.

 

 _Do me a favor,_ said a familiar voice in his head a moment later. _Don_ _’t let him take that internship._

 

Yuutarou glanced over the top of his book at Kageyama, who was busy ladling one of Watari’s potions into a vat. _Why_?

 

_Can_ _’t tell you that._

 

 _Well I_ _’m going to need_ some _excuse,_ Yuutarou huffed. Kageyama just shrugged.

 

“What are you two gossiping about?” Kunimi asked. Yuutarou jolted and Kunimi gave him a flat look.

 

“Oikawa-san,” Yuutarou blurted. “We’re gossiping about Oikawa-san.”

 

Kunimi made a face. “Why? You’re both in his head enough as it is.”

 

Yuutarou shrugged. “Exactly,” he said. “We’ve both got unique insight and need each other’s support. If you think he’s bad on the outside…” He shuddered theatrically.

 

“You never did tell me why you partnered with him,” Kunimi said. “You did it in high school, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Yuutarou said. “My first year. We’d been friends for a little while before that, and he was still struggling to get control of his magic. I’m sure you know his history with Kageyama, right?” Kunimi nodded. “Well, he reached the point where he needed outside support when he was seventeen. I’m not really sure why he asked me over everyone else, but I was more than happy to help out.”

 

“So you linked yourself to a psychic, possibly the single most dangerous thing you can do, just because you wanted to be helpful?” Kunimi was smiling at him, like he was a particularly adorable, but precocious child. It made Yuutarou’s heart stutter strangely.

 

“You make it sound like I just did it willy-nilly,” he said. “After the first time he asked me, Oikawa-san kept trying to get me to change my mind. So did most of our friends. Funny enough, Iwaizumi-san was the one who backed me up.”

 

“Really? I figured he’d be one of the ones telling you not to do it.” Yuutarou smiled and shook his head.

 

“I did too. But he knew how badly Oikawa-san needed someone, and I don’t know, I guess he trusted me.”

 

“Trusted you not to hurt him?” Kunimi asked. Yuutarou shook his head.

 

“Trusted me to stand up to him,” he said. “Most people thought Oikawa-san would end up hurting me, or at very least walking all over me. But Iwaizumi-san took me aside one day and said ‘If you do this, then you have to do it right. I need someone to not let him get away with his shit, and I know you can do that’. I think his endorsement was the last straw, because Oikawa-san and I went to see a counselor about it the next week.” Kunimi looked at him for a long while, something unnameable in his eyes. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Kunimi said with a flush. “It’s just a nice story. Not a lot of people would do that for a friend.”

 

“Well, why’d you pair up with Kageyama?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi chuckled under his breath.

 

“Don’t laugh,” he said.

 

“I make no promises.” A smile was beginning to tug at Yuutarou’s lips.

 

“I wanted to sleep.”

 

“What?” Kunimi ducked his head to hide his grin.

 

“We were roommates, and he was having these nightmares that would shake the walls. I partnered up to help with the nightmares so I could get a decent night’s rest.”

 

“Honestly?” Yuutarou laughed. “That makes perfect sense.”

 

“I’m not sure I like your tone.” Kunimi was smiling. Yuutaoru couldn’t see it, but he could tell from the way Kunimi’s eyes sparkled and his voice trembled with mirth.

 

“That was in middle school, right?” Yuutarou asked. “So that means you were there for the Eight Month’s War.”

 

Kunimi threw his head back and groaned. “I thought I was going to have to lock them in a closet together,” he said. “This thing with Ushijima is _so_ much better than the first time.”

 

“Hey, you didn’t have to sit through any spa day bitch sessions,” Yuutarou said.

 

“No, I had to sit through Kageyama-wasn’t-invited-to-spa-day bitch sessions,” Kunimi said. Yuutarou grinned at him, and Kunimi grinned back, and Kageyama scowed at the both of them. Yuutarou’s notes lay forgotten on the floor.

 

-

 

While Iwaizumi gathered supplies from his parents’ endless shed, Akira stood on the back porch and called his mother.

 

“Akira! How’s the beach trip?” she greeted. In the background, he could hear her next-door-neighbor’s dog barking and the cars bustling past her window. He bit his lip to hold back the sudden rush of tears. “Akira?”

 

“I’m all right,” Akira said quickly. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

 

“Sweetheart, is everything all right?” she asked. Akira sighed.

 

“Not really,” he admitted. He hesitated, glancing toward the side of the house where the shed was. “There are a lot of people here who don’t really like Kageyama.”

 

“Akira, what is it you aren’t telling me?” Akira snorted. There was no hiding anything from her.

 

“I ran into Kindaichi,” he said quietly.

 

“Oh yeah?” her tone was careful, like she was deliberately refraining from further comment until Akira said something himself.

 

“Yeah,” he said.

 

“And how’s that going?” she prompted.

 

“Not well,” he said. “We kind of got sucked into this camping trip together with a couple of Kageyama’s neighbors. I may be hard to reach for a couple of days.”

 

“All right, Akira, keep your secrets,” she said. “Just know that if you need anything, you can give me a call. And I expect you back in one piece at the end of this, or there will be hell to pay.”

 

Akira smiled. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. She hummed in answer. A silence stretched out between them, a kind of world that only contained them and the telephone line between them. Akira wished for a moment that he could be there in person, that his mother could wrap him in her arms and run her cold fingers through his hair. He sighed. “I may be in over my head,” he said.

 

“You usually are,” she told him. “But you always get through. I know you can handle whatever this is.”

 

“I hope you’re right.” Akira glanced over his shoulder again to see Kageyama waiting a few paces away. He offered a smile that was shaky at best. “I have to go. I’ll call you as soon as this is over.”

 

“Make sure you do, Akira,” his mother warned. “I love you.”

 

“Love you too.” He hung up and stuffed the phone in his pocket with a sigh.

 

“Everything okay?” Kageyama asked tentatively. Akira set his jaw.

 

“It will be,” he promised. “I’ll make sure it is.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d be so intense about this,” Kageyama said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

“You’ll learn,” Akira said, grabbing Kageyama’s hand. Without their bond, it still felt like he was too far away. “Are the others back from the store yet?”

 

“They just got back,” Kageyama said. “I’m surprised you didn’t go with them.” Akira shrugged.

 

“I’m pretty sure you can guess why I don’t want to spend a lot of time with Kindaichi right now,” he murmured. “I just want to get this trip over with and put your magic back where it belongs. Then things can go back to normal.”

 

“Things will never be normal where we’re involved,” Kageyama said. Akira snorted.

 

“Close enough,” he said. He stalled for just a moment longer, then tugged Kageyama into the house.

 

Oikawa was complaining about the long line at the store while Iwaizumi and Kindaichi sorted the supplies, laying flat on his back and conjuring little balls of light to float above him. Akira crouched beside the bags to help.

 

“It’s a bit later than I wanted, but if we head out in the next hour then we should get a decent ways out of town before the sun sets,” Iwaizumi said as they sorted. “As long as you’re quick at your aunt’s, Kindaichi.”

 

“I’ll be in and out,” Kindaichi promised. “I’m just as ready as you to get this over with.”

 

“Probably more so,” Iwaizumi laughed. He reached over to ruffle Kindaichi’s hair, and Kindaichi all but glowed. Akira bit his lip to keep from laughing. Kindaichi glanced at him, and the laughter died away.

 

“So, when we get to my aunt’s place, it’d probably be best if you all wait at the cafe next door,” Kindaichi said suddenly. “She, um. Doesn’t really like psychics much.”

 

“That’s an understatement,” Akira muttered. Oikawa sniffed.

 

“That’s because she hasn’t met me,” he sang. Iwaizumi smacked him absently.

 

“No, he’s right,” Akira said. “She might try to exorcise you if she figures out what you are.”

 

“What the hell kind of family do you come from?” Iwaizumi asked. Kindaichi shrugged.

 

“My sister is worse,” he said. “But my aunt’s shop is a curiosities place, and most of what she sells is some sort of protection or weapon against psychics. They don’t work or anything, but I’d rather not have that fight in the first place. Plus, if she sees Kunimi, then we’ll be there for hours while she catches up.” Akira shuddered.

 

“In that case, I think we’re all set,” Iwaizumi said. “Everyone grab a bag.” Akira pretended not to notice the way Iwaizumi threw the lightest one at Oikawa and grabbed the heaviest for himself. He also pretended not to notice Oikawa’s grateful smile. He just grabbed his own bag and led the way out of the apartment. Kageyama locked the door behind them, and for some reason it felt so final.

 

“We’re coming back,” he whispered so that only Kageyama could hear. “We’re coming back here, and then we’re going back to school where I can keep an eye on you.”

 

“Of course we are,” Kageyama said, but rather than reassuring him, the words only sounded like an empty placation. Kageyama was still planning something, and from the way he eyed Kindaichi, Akira had a feeling he knew what it was. He hoped desperately that he was wrong. It was a fight he didn’t want to have, on any level.

 

Akira hiked his bag up his shoulders and made his way down the stairs. The sun hiked up the sky and the day lay before them, ready to raise or ruin them by nightfall. Akira resisted the urge to bare his teeth at it as they set off toward the shops on the beach.

 

-*-


	31. Chapter 31

“Yoshikawa Enterprises…” Ito-sensei hummed, scratching at the five-o-clock shadow dusting his jaw. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of them.”

 

Yuutarou glanced at Kunimi. “They said in their email that they had contacted you,” he said. Ito-sensei frowned and clicked at something on his computer.

 

“Oh _now_ I remember,” he crowed. “Yes, they were on my initial email. I sent out a whole mess of queries at once. They replied asking for more information, so I sent them the readings for your large-scale test and your email addresses.” Ito-sense grinned, clearly proud of himself. Yuutaoru smiled back. Kunimi continued frowning.

 

“We wanted to ask what you knew about the company, Sensei,” he said. “Some background information before we decide which offer to take.”

 

“Honestly, I don’t know much about them,” Ito-sensei said. “They’re one of those background companies, more interested in the development than the glory. I think this is the first time I’ve actually heard back from them about a student project, though…”

 

“Any information you have would be helpful,” Yuutaoru said.

 

“Most of what I have is word of mouth,” Ito-sensei said. “All of my colleagues who have worked with them have nothing but good things to say. The interns for their company are always highly sought-after in the job market, and they almost all go on to work on big, world-changing things. They’ve come in on several projects that should have fallen apart and turned them into success stories. I think you boys would do well to sign on with them.”

 

Kunimi glanced at Yuutarou, but all Yuutaoru could see in his eyes was the old steel wall. “Thanks, Sensei,” he said. “I think we’ll have to do a bit more research, but we’ll let you know if we take any of the offers.”

 

“Make sure you do,” Ito-sensei said. “I have a bet with the dean’s secretary and I intend to collect.”

 

“Goodbye, Sensei,” Yuutaoru laughed. Ito-sensei waved them out, already rummaging through a stack of papers. Yuutarou let Kunimi lead the way out and shut the office door behind him.

 

“Does it say much that he was exactly as helpful as I thought he would be?” Kunimi muttered.

 

“He was no help at all,” Yuutaoru pointed out.

 

“Exactly.” Yuutarou snorted. “Well,” Kunimi said, “his endorsement does make me a little less uneasy about them.”

 

“I don’t know,” Yuutaoru said, perhaps a little too quickly. “I still want to look into it more.”

 

“We’re not going to get a better offer.”

 

“I know. I’m just… Something still feels off.” Yuutarou shrugged. “Anyway, your class starts soon, right?”

 

Kunimi grimaced. “Who decided Friday evening classes were a good idea again?” he grumbled.

 

“Beats me,” Yuutarou said. “Go on. I’ll go look up some of the other companies and text you the details.”

 

“Sounds good.” Kunimi paused, looking at Yuutarou for a moment. He opened his mouth as though he were about to say something, then closed it and smiled instead. He waved at Yuutarou and turned and walked away. Yuutarou watched his retreating figure until he turned a corner, not quite sure what to do with the warmth in his chest and the tingling in his fingertips. He forced himself to look away, glancing down at his feet. They were surrounded by daisies that hadn’t been there a moment before.

 

“Great,” Yuutarou muttered. He picked his way out of the patch of flowers and started trudging toward the library.

 

When he arrived, Oikawa was standing in front of the only available computer, grinning. He stepped gracefully aside to let Yuutaoru drop into the chair, folding himself over Yuutarou’s back to see the screen.

 

“What’s Takahashi Magical Development, Limited?” he asked. His breath tickled at Yuutaoru’s neck.

 

“Kunimi and I got an offer to develop our spell from them,” Yuutarou said. He elbowed Oikawa until he turned his head to a less obnoxious angle. “I don’t like their offer, though. Basically they just wanted to take it over and tack our names somewhere in the development team.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Oikawa said. Yuutaoru shrugged.

 

“We’ve only got one good offer, but I don’t know if I trust the company,” he said.

 

“ _Yoshikawa Enterprises_ ,” Oikawa hummed. “They don’t _sound_ shady.” Yuutarou thought of Kageyama’s request and the trepidation he had felt when he’d first read the email. “Yeah, but other than Tobio, that’s just a feeling. And who knows why Tobio’s against it.”

 

“Dunno. He wouldn’t tell me.” Yuutaoru wrote down the details for Takahashi Development and looked up the next company on the list.

 

“I can look into them, if you want,” Oikawa offered. “If they really are less than savory then no one will think twice about a grad student researching a company.”

 

“That’d be great,” Yuutaoru said. “I’m kind of weirded out by the fact that no one has anything bad to say about them.” Oikawa hummed.

 

“Oh, that reminds me, you’re going to dinner with Suga-chan and company tomorrow.” Yuutaoru blinked.

 

“Kunimi didn’t mention anything,” he said.

 

“Kunimi-chan doesn’t know yet,” he said. “I think the plan is to get you on board and let you guilt him into it. I just don’t feel like selling it right now.”

 

“Fun,” Yuutaoru said. “Actually, that’s probably a good thing. Alisa-san will probably know something about Yoshikawa.”

 

“Right, yeah, internships,” Oikawa droned. “More importantly, though, one of them might know why Kunimi-chan is just as insistent as you about not admitting he likes you.”

 

“Oikawa-san, he’s not-”

 

“Deny all you like, Kindaichi,” Oikawa said. “I know what I see. That boy is just as gone on you as you are for him.”

 

“You sound like my grandma,” Yuutarou huffed.

 

“You take that back,” Oikawa gasped.

 

“You mind your own business,” Yuutarou returned. Oikawa shrugged and leaned more of his weight onto Yuutarou’s shoulders.

 

“D’you think I can crash your next class?” he asked. “I could use a nap.”

 

“If you must,” Yuutarou said. “Just don’t cause a scene. It’s a lecture, and I’m gonna have a hard enough time paying attention without you being a pest.”

 

“You love me,” Oikawa hummed. Yuutarou rolled his eyes.

 

“Unfortunately,” he said.

 

-

 

“I think,” Hinata said grandly, “that it should be illegal for professors to assign readings on the first week of class.”

 

“I think,” Yuutaoru growled, “it should be illegal for people studying archaeology to complain about reading when people in the room are taking o-chem.” Hinata did not look suitably intimidated.

 

“You each brought this on yourselves,” Kunimi hummed. Yuutaoru restrained himself from throwing an eraser at his head. The dorm was a big enough mess as it was, and Yuutaoru worried that if he did throw something it would disappear into the mess of notes and textbooks and syllabi, never to be seen again. He satisfied himself with sticking his tongue out at Kunimi instead.

 

“Okay, so Kageyama-kun, I want to see you twice a week for this geology class,” Yachi said, pointing her pencil at Kageyama without looking up from the pages in front of her. “And Shouyou, you’ll come see me every day at two so we can go over your readings. Tsukishima-kun, you’re welcome to attend that study session as well.”

 

“If I walk into traffic then I won’t have to do any of the readings,” Tsukishima droned.

 

“I will bring them to your grave and read them aloud,” Yachi said. Yamaguchi patted Tsukishima’s shoulder and he closed his eyes in acceptance.

 

Yuutarou listened to his friends sorting out the semester’s study schedule, but he wasn’t paying attention. Kunimi had his legs stretched out across the space between them, close enough that his toes brushed spots of heat against Yuutarou’s knee. He reached out absently to hold Kunimi’s foot, brushing his thumb back and forth over the jutting bone of his ankle. He tilted his head back against the side of Tsukishima’s bed and let his eyes slip closed.

 

He was so far adrift that he didn’t see it coming until it was too late. His eyes flew open in the second before the door did the same. Oikawa stormed into the room and collapsed across Yachi and Yuutarou to drop his head into Kageyama’s lap.

 

“Tobio-chan, you’re the worst boyfriend ever,” he whined.

 

“What’d he do?” Yamaguchi asked, leaning forward with a grin.

 

“Beats me,” Kageyama said, petting Oikawa gently.

 

“You _abandoned_ me,” Oikawa whined. “You said you were going to the bathroom and then you just _left_. I was standing there like an idiot for half an hour!” Kageyama snickered.

 

“Kageyama,” Kunimi scolded lazily.

 

“That’s not even the worst of it!” Oikawa cried. “Ushiwaka was there! And he kept asking if I needed help, and I kept saying I was waiting for you, and then you never came back! I looked like an idiot!”

 

“You could have talked to him,” Yuutarou said. “That would have been a normal thing to do.”

 

“I can’t talk to him!” Oikawa cried. “If I talk to him then he’ll stop liking me.”

 

“You do realize that if you ever manage to actually start dating him, you will have to talk to him, right?” Kunimi asked. Oikawa made a noise like a cat being stepped on and smashed his face into Kageyama’s thigh. “Guess not,” Kunimi muttered.

 

“We don’t say the d-word around Oikawa-san,” Yuutarou said. “He’s sensitive.”

 

 _Fuck you Kindaichi. Stop laughing at my pain._ Yuutarou pinched Oikawa’s thigh.

 

 _Stop freaking out at every little thing and believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about._ Oikawa whined again. He was still for a moment, then he flailed about until he could sit upright between Yuutaoru and Kageyama. He sniffed and flicked his hair into place, and looked around the room.

 

“So, what are we doing?” he asked grandly.

 

“Study schedules,” Yuutarou said. He dropped his head onto Oikawa’s shoulder and closed his eyes again. Kunimi’s toes brushed against his knee and his entire leg felt warm. “Are you and Sugawara-san doing that study group again this semester?”

 

“Yeah, Mondays and Wednesdays,” Oikawa replied.

 

“Great. That means you can have dates on Thursdays with Ushijima-san, just like you’ve been fantasizing about for the past month,” Yuutaoru said.

 

“Why are you like this?” Yuutarou only smiled.

 

“I don’t understand why you’re avoiding the inevitable,” Kunimi muttered. “Both of the guys you have feelings for like you back. You fought so hard against Kageyama the first time around and now look at you.”

 

“Kunimi-chan, I trusted you!” Oikawa squawked.

 

“I’m just saying.” Yuutarou cracked an eye open to see if Kunimi’s face was as sad as his voice, but Kunimi’s expression was nothing but bored. “And it’s not like these losers are going to let this go anytime soon. You’re better off just giving in.”

 

“It’s not that simple and you know it,” Oikawa huffed.

 

“I don’t know it!” Hinata chirped. Oikawa glanced at him, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. A few balls of light glimmered to life around his head and he shook his head.

 

“Things are complicated, Chibi-chan,” he said. “People like me don’t really get to live happily ever after. I’m already tempting fate by being with Tobio-chan. Anything more than that is just asking for disaster.”

 

“You’re a moron,” Yamaguchi said sweetly.

 

“You’re like the third-last person I want to hear that from,” Oikawa snapped.

 

“Hey, I worked out my drama,” Yamaguchi drawled. “Now it’s someone else’s turn. It’s either gonna be you or Kindai-”

 

“We’re late for dinner,” Kageyama said suddenly. Kunimi looked at him, and his eyes widened.

 

“No,” he said.

 

“Too bad,” Kageyama replied. Yuutarou chuckled as he climbed to his feet and stepped around the mess on the floor to grab his bag. Yachi followed him, and they waited in the hall while Kageyama dragged Kunimi after them.

 

“You’re all traitors and I hate you,” Kunimi muttered.

 

“Alisa-neesan is cooking,” Yachi chirped.

 

“I hate you slightly less than I did before.” Yuutarou grinned and threw an arm around Yachi’s shoulders, and together they walked to the station.

 

-

 

Kageyama and Oikawa managed to do as they were told for about three and a half minutes. Akira returned from the bathroom in the cafe by Kindaichi’s aunt’s shop to find them missing and Iwaizumi pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Where are they?” Akira sighed.

 

“Exactly where they were told not to go,” Iwaizumi answered. “Oikawa _just wanted to check out the curiosities in the shop_ or some bullshit like that, and Kageyama just wandered off after him.”

 

“So, are we going after them, or…” Akira trailed off with a shrug and dropped into the empty seat beside Iwaizumi.

 

“I figured you’d go after them,” Iwaizumi said suddenly. Akira shrugged again.

 

“There’s not much Kindaichi’s aunt can do,” he said. “Kageyama’s technically not a psychic right now, after all. And Kindaichi’s right. If I go over there it’ll turn into a family reunion that none of us wants to have.”

 

“You’re Kageyama’s dog, aren’t you?” Akira glanced up at him and he flushed slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s a slur, but I don’t know what else to call it,” he said.

 

“Yeah, I am,” Akira said. “Why do you ask?”

 

“I just figured you’d be more protective of him,” Iwaizumi said.

 

“I am. I just trust Kindaichi not to let anything happen to him. And I don’t think Oikawa-san is stupid enough to do anything that’ll set Kindaichi off.” Iwaizumi snorted.

 

“You underestimate Oikawa’s stupidity,” he muttered. Akira opened his mouth, then closed it. “What’s up?” Iwaizumi asked.

 

“It’s not really my place,” Akira said.

 

“I get the feeling it probably is,” Iwaizumi said. “Or, at least, it will be. That priestess said the four of you are tied by fate and all that.”

 

Akira gnawed on the inside of his cheek, debating. Slowly, he asked, “Was he really cut off from his magic? Like, entirely?”

 

“He was,” Iwaizumi sighed. “We met about a year after the accident, when I was in physical therapy for a broken leg. He was every bit as magicless as me at that point. I think that’s why he didn’t shove me away like he did everyone else.”

 

“But he’s got it back now,” Akira said.

 

“Yes?” Iwaizumi looked at him like he knew there was more to the question. Akira played with a straw wrapper someone had left on the table, and Iwaizumi made a soft, understanding noise. “This is about Kageyama,” he said.

 

“I think he’s going to try to get rid of it again,” Akira whispered. “And I guess I need to know that there might be a way to fix it if he does.”

 

“Kageyama’s magic is powerful, even I know that. Whatever he did to Oikawa cut off his pathways to his power, but didn’t take it away completely. Oikawa had to rebuild those pathways. It took a very long time, but I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as him. I don’t know if Kageyama is powerful enough to get rid of his own magic or not.” Iwaizumi sighed and looked out the window. “I hated that kid for a long time,” he admitted. “Funny enough, it was Oikawa who made me realize I was wrong, that he and Oikawa were very much the same. Lost little kids dealing with things way bigger than them. I guess what I’m trying to say is that whatever happens, I’m glad he has someone like you to look after him. Since I can’t.”

 

“I don’t know that I can,” Akira said. Iwaizumi smiled at him.

 

“The fact that you’re trying means a lot,” he said. “For people like Kageyama, like Oikawa, just being there for them is revolutionary. I’m sure that whatever happens, as long as you face it with him, he’ll come out okay.”

 

“That’s a lot of faith to put in someone you just met,” Akira grumbled. Iwaizumi laughed.

 

“I may have just met you, but I’ve known _me_ for a long time,” he said.

 

“What the hell does that even mean?” Iwaizumi laughed again.

 

“It means that you’ll pull through,” he said. “I have a good feeling about you, Kunimi.” Akira wasn’t sure why Iwaizumi’s words made him feel better, but the tight lump in his throat loosened somewhat. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind Iwaizumi and frowned.

 

“They’ve been there too long,” he muttered, just as Iwaizumi’s phone dinged. Iwaizumi snorted and typed a reply.

 

“They’ll be here in a couple of minutes,” he said. “Oikawa’s trying on hats. It’ll be faster if we just let him go.”

 

Akira grunted and leaned back in his chair. The minutes ticked by in anxious agony until sure enough, the others arrived at the cafe, Oikawa strutting in wearing an obnoxiously large sun hat.

 

“What are you two just sitting around for?” he scolded. “Let’s go! We’re wasting daylight.”

 

“You look like a bobblehead,” Iwaizumi snapped, grabbing his bag from the pile next to the table. He tossed Oikawa’s at him, tensing when Oikawa stumbled slightly under the sudden weight. When Oikawa huffed and slung the bag over his shoulder, Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and marched out of the cafe. Oikawa followed hot on his heels, babbling something about the hats he had looked at. Akira rolled his eyes.

 

“Ready?” he asked. Kageyama shrugged and Kindaichi nodded nervously. Akira bit back a sigh. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, and walked out after the other two. He didn’t wait to see if Kageyama and Kindaichi were following him. He didn’t have to.

 

It was a small comfort, but Akira took it nonetheless.

 

-*-


	32. Chapter 32

Yuutarou pressed his palm to the trunk of the apple tree outside Saeko’s house and smiled. It was doing well after a shaky start, and he was hopeful that he would be able to get it to bear fruit that autumn. He smiled wider at the thought of still being around in the autumn; when he had grown the sapling, a part of him had doubted he would be able to come back at all. He could hear the ruckus spilling out from inside the house, and he knew that if he walked back inside it would swell to accept him. He was as much a part of this place now as the apple tree.

 

“If I didn’t know any better,” drawled a voice behind him, “I’d think you came to see that tree, rather than any of us.”

 

“You would not be incorrect, Kuroo-san,” Yuutaoru said, letting his hand drop and turn around. “I don’t actually care about any of you. Just this tree.”

 

“I don’t be-leaf this,” Kuroo said with a grin.

 

“And that’s why.” Yuutarou grinned back at him. He started walking back toward the little house, only to be stopped by Kuroo’s hand on his shoulder. “Kuroo-san?”

 

“Is everything okay?” Kuroo asked softly. “I don’t mean to pry, but Kageyama seems… more edgy than usual, and I can’t get a thing out of either him or Kunimi.”

 

“Everything’s great,” Yuutarou said, his brow furrowing. “If there’s anything going on, they haven’t told me about it.”

 

“You sure?” Kuroo asked. “I haven’t seen Tobio this agitated in a few years…”

 

“There’s nothing I can think of,” Yuutaoru said with a shrug. Kuroo nodded and let his hand drop.

 

“Okay,” he said. “I guess I’m just being a paranoid old man.” He grinned at Yuutaoru and started back toward the house.

 

“Wait,” Yuutaoru said slowly. Kuroo turned back to face him, his face open and trusting. Yuutarou shook his head to clear the surprise at that trust. “It might be about this internship offer we’ve got,” he said. “Kageyama seemed worried about the company, so we’ve been looking into others. I don’t really know why, though.”

 

“What company?” Kuroo asked. Yuutarou told him the name, and about the offer and Ito-sensei’s hearty endorsement of them. Kuroo listened intently, then turned to look at the leaves of the apple tree. “It sounds like nothing,” he said slowly, “but if Kageyama is worried about it, then there might be something there. I can take a look, if you like.”

 

Yuutaoru nodded. “Sure. Oikawa-san said he would do the same. I don’t think anything will turn up, but if it will put his mind at ease, then…”

 

“Yeah, I getcha,” Kuroo said. He slung an arm around Yuutarou and started tugging him toward the house. “Now, you’ve never had Alisa-nee’s cooking before, so I need you to do me a favor and try not to cry in awe when you taste it.” Yuutarou snorted and let Kuroo lead him inside.

 

The food was, as promised, easily the best thing Yuutaoru had ever tasted. It was worth the intrusive questions about Yuutarou’s childhood and being witness to the way Saeko kissed a bit of rice off the corner of Alisa’s mouth while Kiti tittered on her other side. It was even worth the feeling that everyone in the room was deliberately not talking about something. Especially when Kunimi grew sleepy after dinner and curled into Yuutarou’s side on the floor in front of the couch halfway through the movie and fell asleep. That was worth all the discomfort in the world.

 

“God, you’re disgusting,” Kageyama muttered. Yuutaoru craned his head back far enough to look quizzically up at him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kageyama said.

 

“Nope, ‘fraid not,” Yuutarou said. Kageyama kicked him in the side. “Stop that, you’ll wake him up.”

 

“He’s disgusting too,” Kageyama muttered.

 

“Who’s disgusting?” asked Bokuto. Saeko sighed dramatically and paused the movie.

 

“Kunimi and Kindaichi,” Kageyama said.

 

“We’re not disgusting,” Yuutarou argued.

 

“You’re literally blushing because he’s sleeping on you,” Kageyama droned. Bokuto’s eyebrows shot up and an instant later Kuroo’s did the same.

 

“Oya?” Kuroo hummed, leaning into Bokuto’s side so he could leer at Yuutarou. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”

 

“There’s nothing to share,” Yuutaoru said, awkwardly shrugging the shoulder Kunimi was not laying on. “He sleeps on lots of people.”

 

“Lots of people don’t blush when he does it,” Tanaka pointed out.

 

“He’s warm,” Yuutarou said. “I’m not blushing, I’m heat-flushed.”

 

“If that’s the case, you should probably get him off of you,” Kuroo said. “Can’t have you dying of heat stroke, can we?”

 

“Leave him alone, Kuro,” said Kenma. Yuutarou wanted to be grateful, but he had a feeling it wasn’t said in defense of him, but rather of the way Kenma was draped across Kunimi’s other side. “It’s not like you were any better,” Kenma muttered.

 

“Any better with what?” Yuutaoru asked. Bokuto started bouncing in excitement and Kuroo scowled at Kenma.

 

“When he an’ Lev an’ Suga an’ Ryuu got together,” Bokuto crowed. “It was so funny.”

 

“It was not!” Kuroo cried.

 

“It was pretty funny,” Sugawara said.

 

“Oh.” Yuutaoru blinked. “I didn’t realize the four of you were together.”

 

“Tetsu’s weird about PDA,” Lev said.

 

“I’m not weird about it!” Kuroo said. “You’re the weird ones! Who hangs off of their partners all the time? It’s-”

 

“Weird?” Tanaka supplied.

 

“Yes, thank you! Weird!” huffed Kuroo. Kunimi shifted, his face scrunching. Yuutarou started stroking his fingers through Kunimi’s hair and he settled.

 

“But is it weird?” asked Sugawara. Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him.

 

“Kuroo-san is perfectly within his rights to not enjoy public displays of affection,” Yachi said serenely.

 

“He is,” Tanaka acknowledged. “And we respect his boundaries. Outside of this house.”

 

“There are no boundaries inside,” Lev agreed.

 

“Yacchan!” cried Kuroo.

 

“I can’t help you there,” she said. “They’re right.”

 

Kuroo crossed his arms, muttering something about false friends and betrayals while Bokuto wrapped an arm around him and nuzzled into his hair.

 

“Okay, but it is weird that Kindaichi’s phone screen is a picture of Kunimi,” Kenma said suddenly.

 

“It’s _what._ ” Kunimi sat up and glared at Yuutarou. Kenma huffed and crawled away to curl up against Lev instead.

 

“How long have you been awake?” Yuutaoru asked.

 

“Since Tetsu started wailing about how weird he is,” Kunimi said. “Give me your phone.” Yuutaoru thought about arguing, but there was a dangerous light in Kunimi’s eyes. He handed it over without a word.

 

“Lemme see,” Bokuto said, crawling half into Kageyama’s lap to peer over Yuutarou’s shoulder. “It’s cute!” he crowed.

 

“Is this the picture I told you to delete?” Kunimi growled.

 

“I have no memory of that,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi’s expression flickered, then settled back into a glare. He pulled up Yuutarou’s photo gallery. “Go ahead,” Yuutarou said. “I’ll have it back by tomorrow.”

 

“Who did you send it to?” Kunimi hissed.

 

“No one,” Yuutaoru said. “I just have all my photos backed up on my computer.” Kunimi snorted and dropped Yuutarou’s phone. He tucked his head back against Yuutaoru’s shoulder. Bokuto lunged down to pick it up and show Kuroo the picture.

 

“I’ll get you back for this,” Kunimi grumbled.

 

“Why? It’s a nice picture!” Kunimi shook his head.

 

“I’m all squinty,” he muttered.

 

“You’re smiling,” Kiti gasped, one hand over her heart. “I’m sending this to myself.”

 

“Send it to me too!” Kuroo called.

 

“I’ll send it to all of you, don’t worry,” Kiti said. Yuutaoru winced, decidedly not meeting Kunimi’s eye.

 

“I’ll buy you a macchiato every day for a week,” he offered.

 

“Two weeks,” Kunimi demanded.

 

“Two weeks,” Yuutarou agreed. Saeko hit play on the movie and the room settled down somewhat. Kunimi was just dropping off again when a psychic tapped at the edge of Yuutaoru’s mind. He glanced up to see Sugawara looking at him and let down some of his defenses.

 

 _He_ _’s flattered,_ Sugawara told him.

 

 _Kunimi? I_ _’m not sure you should be telling me that._ Despite himself, Yuutarou was pleased. Sugawara laughed at him.

 

_For the record, almost everyone here knows about your crush on him. Don_ _’t argue, we all know you have one. And I haven’t heard a single complaint about you._

 

 _Am I going to get any warnings against breaking his heart?_ Yuutaoru asked. _Because I_ _’ve already told Kageyama, there’s no way I’d be in a position to do that._

 

Sugawara only smiled at him and turned back to the movie. Yuutarou did the same, not really paying attention to the plot or the characters, too busy both worrying about and enjoying the warmth of Kunimi at his side.

 

 

-

 

Yuutarou tagged along to Oikawa’s first study group on Monday, mostly to supervise. Sugawara had informed him, gleefully, that Ushijima would be joining them once a week, since he didn’t have work and had been looking for a structured study group to join anyway. Yuutarou’s job was to make sure Oikawa stayed put once he realized what was happening.

 

He almost didn’t manage it. As soon as Oikawa stepped into the group study room and caught sight of Ushijima looking out the window, he started screaming mentally, turned on his heel, and tried to walk out. The only reason Yuutaoru managed to stop him was because a girl in Oikawa’s Mental Health of Magi class walked in just as Oikawa shoved Yuutarou away and her glare was enough to make him pause.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Yuutarou laughed, wrapping an arm around Oikawa’s waist and hauling him back into the room. Ushijima looked up at the commotion, and his face lit up when he saw Oikawa. _Oh look, he noticed you. Gross. Don_ _’t make an idiot of yourself._

 

“You’re a cruel person, Kindaichi,” Oikawa muttered, but he blushed and returned Ushijima’s smile with a nervous one of his own. He sat, two seats away from Ushijima, and started pulling out his notes. If Yuutarou didn’t know better, he would say that Ushijima pouted at the distance. _Don_ _’t be mean,_ Oikawa thought at him.

 

 _I live to be mean,_ Yuutarou replied. He pulled out his sketchbook and pencils, then dropped his bag against the wall and curled up in the armchair in the corner where he would have a wonderful view of Oikawa being a complete moron all night. Oikawa stuck his tongue out at him. Sugawara walked in and rifled through his bag for a moment then dropped into the seat between Oikawa and Ushijima.

 

“Oh good, you’re already here,” he said. “Kuroo wanted me to give you these, Oikawa. Apparently they were all he could find on Yoshikawa, but he figured they might give you a good starting point.”

 

“Thanks,” Oikawa said, taking the folder Sugawara held out to him.

 

“Are you speaking of Yoshikawa Enterprises?” Ushijima asked, his voice shy.

 

“Y-yeah,” Oikawa stammered. “T-Tobio asked me to look into them for him.”

 

“They are a good company,” Ushijima said. “Is he interested in an internship with them?”

 

“Uh, something like that,” Oikawa said. “He wanted to make sure they were as up-and-up as they seem before he made a decision.”

 

“My roommate was an intern with them last summer. I could ask him his opinion of the company, if you wish.” Ushijima had an earnest set to his face, leaning forward slightly to speak to Oikawa around Sugawara. Yuutarou hid his grin behind his sketchbook.

 

 _Say yes,_ he told Oikawa, tugging at the edges of his mind. _The more eyes looking the better. It_ _’ll make Kageyama happier._

 

 _I hate when you_ _’re right_ , Oikawa sniffed. “That- that would be great, Ushiwaka-chan, but you don’t have to go out of your way-”

 

“If it would help yourself and Kageyama, it would be my pleasure.” Yuutaoru was pretty sure that was the first time he had ever heard Ushijima interrupt someone. He bit his lip to keep from snickering.

 

“If you’re sure,” Oikawa murmured.

 

 _It_ _’s like I’m not even here_ , said Sugawara’s voice in Yuutarou’s head. _I_ _’m literally sitting right between them and they couldn’t care less._

 

 _Oh, but Ushijima-san doesn_ _’t like Oikawa-san back, remember?_ Sugawara snorted and Ushijima looked at him in concern. Sugawara waved him off, standing up and crossing to his bag. He dug out a tissue and pretended to dab at his nose, grinning in Yuutarou’s direction the entire time.

 

-

 

They left town a little before eleven in the morning, when the streets were just starting to flood with tourist traffic. Locals glared openly as they walked past, the town golden boy and the pariah and their entourage, lugging camping gear down the road out of town. Akira was more than happy to leave the last few buildings behind and turn off onto the footpath leading into the hills. Oikawa led the way, humming to himself as he walked beneath a waterfall of his own magic, flicking his hands this way and that to conjure and dismiss the lights. Akira watched them idly until he tripped over a stray root.

 

“Careful,” Kindaichi cried, reaching out to grab him by the arm. Akira regained his footing and nodded to Kindaichi, but Kindaichi didn’t let go. “You okay?” he asked.

 

“I’m fine.” Kindaichi still didn’t let go, so Akira gently removed his arm. He glanced up at the hill that the shrine witch had pointed out and frowned. “Iwaizumi-san said that was a day and a half?” he muttered.

 

“Yeah, I was wondering about that too,” Kindaichi said. “I don’t think it’s more than ten miles. We should be able to get there by the time it gets dark, no problem.”

 

As if he had heard them talking, Iwaizumi stooped suddenly to pick up a pine cone and chucked it at Oikawa’s head. “Oi, dumbass, that’s two hours,” he shouted. Oikawa pouted and rubbed at the back of his head.

 

“Iwa-chan, we’re kind of in a hurry,” he grumbled.

 

“I don’t give a shit,” Iwaizumi said. “You know the rules. Drop the bag and sit down.”

 

“I feel fine, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sniffed. Iwaizumi threw another pine cone at him.

 

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said. “Saying you feel fine and then exercising more is exactly what landed you in the hospital last year.” When Oikawa opened his mouth to protest, Iwaizumi bent slowly and picked up a third pine cone. Oikawa closed his mouth and dropped to the ground with a huff. Iwaizumi set his own bag down and stretched his arms over his head with a groan. Akira looked at the ground for a clear place to sit and snorted.

 

“You’ve left a trail of breadcrumbs,” he said, pointing at Kindaichi’s feet.

 

Kindaichi stood in a patch of wildflowers, thick and riotous. Behind him there was a trail of the same, stretching back out of sight. Kindaichi flushed. “I didn’t realize I was doing it,” he said. Akira dropped his bag and sat in front of it.

 

“It’s probably Kageyama’s magic,” he said with a shrug. “Luckily your affinity isn’t all that dangerous.” He ignored Oikawa’s eyes boring into him as he said it. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about.” Kindaichi shrugged and sat down in the middle of his flower patch. He plucked a little white bloom and a slightly larger yellow one and started twining their stems together.

 

“Are you making flower crowns?” Oikawa gasped. Akira closed his eyes.

 

“Uh…” Akira could just see Kindaichi glancing down at the flowers in his hand and blushing, the tips of his ears turning red. He resisted the urge to open his eyes and see if he was right. “Yes?”

 

“Make me one!” Oikawa cried. There was a dull thump and Oikawa tacked on a “Please!”

 

“Sure,” Kindaichi said nervously. “What, um, what are your favorite colors?”

 

Another bag dropped beside Akira’s and he lifted an arm without opening his eyes. Kageyama sat and nestled his head against Akira’s shoulder with a quiet sigh. Akira wondered if the day was hot, and if touching him was the smartest thing for Kageyama to be doing. He listened to Oikawa chatter at Kindaichi and decided he didn’t care.

 

He awoke from his impromptu nap when something settled on his head and Kindaichi hummed thoughtfully. “It’s a little small,” he said. “Your head got bigger.”

 

“You just forgot how big it was,” Akira replied, reaching up to adjust the flower crown. On the edge of his vision he could see the dark blue and white flowers Kindaichi had made it from, and he couldn’t help but smile. “How long was I asleep?” he asked.

 

“About twenty minutes,” Kindaichi replied. “We’re getting ready to head out again.” Akira nodded and stood. Kageyama was already standing with Iwaizumi, both of them wearing crowns as well. Akira frowned.

 

“Did you make one for everyone but you?” he asked. Kindaichi shrugged.

 

“There wasn’t time,” he said. “I’ll make one next time we stop.” Akira stretched his arms and his spine cracked several times. He frowned and picked up his bag. “Maybe napping in that position, on the ground, wasn’t the best idea,” Kindaichi said softly.

 

“I have to nap whenever I can,” Akira said softly. “I don’t get a lot of sleep at night these days.”

 

Iwaizumi dragged Oikawa to his feet and they started walking, Kageyama trailing awkwardly behind. Akira and Kindaichi followed slowly. “I’m worried about you,” Kindaichi said.

 

“What else is new?” Akira asked. Kindaichi sighed.

 

“I know,” he said. “But I don’t think I can help it. You’ve got a whole life I don’t know about now.”

 

“You’re going to have to get used to that,” Akira said.

 

“No I don’t.” Kindaichi said it so simply, so cheerfully, like there was no way he was wrong about this. Akira shook his head.

 

“You’re going to have to let me go, Kindaichi,” he said.

 

“How can you even ask me to do that?” Kindaichi sighed. “Kunimi, do you even know what-”

 

“Of course I know,” Akira said. “I had to do it first.” He shook his head and jogged to catch up with Kageyama. It was a temporary fix, he knew. Kindaichi would just corner him the next time they stopped and pick the conversation right back up. But it was the only option he had just then.

 

-*-


	33. Chapter 33

The study session wrapped up as evening settled to night, the last of the sunset fading from the windows. In the distance a storm was brewing. Thunder rolled low and omnipotent and flashes of lightning illuminated the world outside, but the rain at the library window was still light. Ushijima stood at the window, watching the approaching storm with an unreadable expression on his face. Oikawa took his time packing his things up, chatting with Sugawara about some psychic matter that went over Yuutarou’s head. Sugawara’s phone rang and he darted from the room to answer with a grin, leaving Yuutarou and Oikawa alone with Ushijima.

 

The silence settled like a too-familiar friend, wrapping its sticky arms around each of their necks and drawing them close. Yuutarou fiddled with his phone, wondering if he should say something to break the tension. Just as he opened his mouth, however, the lights flickered, then went out entirely. The room was bathed in darkness for an instant before several balls of light flickered into surprised existence around Oikawa.

 

“Are you both all right?” Ushijima asked calmly. Yuutarou nodded.

 

“Yeah,” said Oikawa, crossing to the door. “Power must have gone out.” Yuutarou blinked.

 

“Um, aren’t the-” Oikawa tugged on the door handle but it held fast. “Yeah,” Yuutarou said. “The locks are electronic.”

 

“What, so we’re locked in here?” Oikawa laughed. He tugged on the door again, but it didn’t budge. He tugged harder and the smile slipped from his face. “We’re locked in here,” he said. Yuutarou thumbed his phone open and shot off a text.

 

“An employee will be by shortly to sweep these rooms,” Ushijima said. “It is a known issue in the building design. We will not be trapped for long.” Ushijima pulled his phone out. Oikawa tugged harder on the door.

 

 _Stop_ , Yuutarou thought at him. _Don_ _’t panic, okay? We’re going to be okay._

 

 _Trapped in a study room with Ushiwaka-chan, Kindaichi, what part of this is okay?_ Yuutarou shook his head.

 

 _At least we have light,_ he pointed out. _And like he said, we won_ _’t be trapped for long. But you need to relax or this is all going to be way harder than it has to._

 

“I have alerted the librarian on duty of our predicament,” Ushijima said, tucking his phone in his pocket.

 

“Great,” Yuutaoru said. He dropped into the arm chair and crossed his legs. His phone buzzed and he grinned to himself. “In the meantime, you can talk about that picnic.”

 

“ _What_ picnic?” Oikawa hissed, whirling around and glaring at Yuutarou. Still smiling, Yuutarou showed him his phone.

 

ME: [Me, Oikawa, and Ushijima are trapped in a small room for the immediate future.]

 

ME: [Any requests?]

 

SWAGEYAMA: [Make him talk about his feelings]

 

SWAGEYAMA: [Or ask ushijima out on that picnic whichever]

 

“I hate you both,” Oikawa said.

 

“Pretend I’m not even here,” Yuutarou suggested. Oikawa glared harder.

 

“Is everything all right?” Ushijima asked. Oikawa plastered a smile on his face and whirled around.

 

“Everything’s great!” he said, too loudly.

 

 _Ask him out,_ Yuutarou prompted. _Don_ _’t be a chicken for once_.

 

 _Buzz off,_ snapped Oikawa.

 

 _You_ _’ll only hate yourself if you don’t,_ Yuutaoru sang. Oikawa shot him a glare, then took a deep breath and faced Ushijima again.

 

“H-hey, Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa said softly. Ushijima looked at him, and it was as if the entire universe was focused on Oikawa, hanging on his next words. Yuutarou was not unsympathetic; that much attentiveness from so intense a person had to be a lot to handle. Especially for someone as insecure as Oikawa.

 

 _You can do this,_ Yuutarou whispered. Oikawa took a deep breath.

 

“I was wondering,” he said, “if you wanted, maybe we could, um.”

 

“Oikawa?” Ushijima’s voice was so soft that Yuutarou like an intruder. He ducked his head and started opening and closing random apps on his phone.

 

“Tobio and I were planning a picnic, and we were wondering if you would like to join us. As- as a date.” It was formal and stiff, but it was a complete sentence. Yuutarou looked up at how badly Oikawa was fidgeting, ready to step in if he was needed. Ushijima blinked at him, mouth hanging slightly agape in surprise.

 

Then he smiled.

 

-

 

“No.”

 

“Kageyama be reasonable.”

 

“ _No._ ”

 

“Will you at least tell me why?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then you tell him.”

 

Kageyama glared at Yuutarou and Yuutarou glared back. They were alone in the cafe, save for Oikawa and Watari chatting in the back and an old woman snoring by the corner window.

 

“Kindaichi-”

 

“Kageyama,” Yuutarou interrupted. “Oikawa-san, Ushijima-san, and Kuroo-san have all looked into it and they haven’t found anything to be worried about.” He sighed at the stubborn set to Kageyama’s face. “Look,” he said. “I get that there are things you can’t tell me. But I can’t come up with a single feasible reason to tell Kunimi that we shouldn’t take this internship. So either you need to give me something I can tell him or you need to tell him yourself. Because otherwise we’re going to take the offer.”

 

“I don’t want anything to do with those people, and neither should either of you,” Kageyama said. “They’re dangerous.”

 

“So are you,” Yuutaoru said. “So is Kunimi, and Oikawa-san. I’m going to need a bit more than ‘they’re dangerous’.”

 

Kageyama looked at him for a long moment, then dropped his eyes to the table, sighing through his nose. “Fine,” he said. “Go ahead.”

 

“What?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“Go ahead and take the offer. There’s nothing I can tell you to change your minds.”

 

“Kageyama-”

 

“Don’t,” Kageyama interrupted, his voice not unkind but certainly not warm. “I’m not happy about this. If you do it, you have to promise me you’ll take care of him.”

 

“Of course I’ll keep an eye on-”

 

“No, not keep an eye on. Take _care_ of him. If this goes the way I think it will, Kunimi could get hurt.” Yuutarou blinked.

 

“Why can’t you tell him that?” he asked. Kageyama shook his head.

 

“I promised a long time ago that I wouldn’t live his life for him,” he said. “Just because I know something doesn’t mean I get to make his choices. That was the second-biggest fight we ever had.”

 

“What was the biggest?” Yuutaoru asked.

 

Kageyama smirked. “You,” he said. Yuutaoru rolled his eyes.

 

“Very funny,” he muttered. The door opened with a tinkling of little bells as Kyoutani walked in for his shift, and Oikawa came bursting out of the kitchen.

 

“So you’re going to take it?” he asked, launching himself at Yuutarou. “The internship? You’re going to take it?”

 

“Why are you so excited about this?” Yuutaoru asked. Oikawa sent him a flood of thoughts and ideas, largely about the potential he and Kunimi had if they accepted this offer. They built to a daydream, an imagining of their spell put into schoolbooks and cast in high risk fire areas, a part of the world. Kunimi and Kindaichi, names taught in history books. “I don’t think it’s going to be that big,” Yuutaoru laughed.

 

“Hey, let me have my dream! What’s wrong with wanting my precious kouhai to do well?” Oikawa threw his arms around Yuutarou and hung from his neck, swaying obnoxiously. Yuutarou wrapped an arm around his waist and laughed as the little bells tinkled again.

 

“What are you two so happy about?” Kunimi asked.

 

“Oikawa-san thinks our spell is going to make us famous,” Yuutaoru answered, turning the both of them so he could smile at Kunimi.

 

“It is!” Oikawa cried. “I’m sure of it. Twenty years from now, the two of you will be household names.”

 

“God, I hope not,” Kunimi said as he dropped his bag on the couch in the corner. “I don’t want to be recognized on the street. I’ve done enough of that already.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Kageyama muttered.

 

“Tell him!” Oikawa said, tugging on Yuutaoru’s neck. “Tell him tell him tell him tell hi-”

 

“You are a lot less pleasant to be around now,” Yuutarou muttered. Oikawa grinned at him. “Are you going to get off of me?” Oikawa grinned wider. Yuutaoru sighed and started the slow slough over to their corner, dragging Oikawa like a ball and chain around his neck. Kunimi watched with amusement sparkling in his dark eyes, a point which Yuutarou did his best not to dwell on.

 

“What are you telling me?” Kunimi asked, laughter dripping from his voice.

 

“Oikawa-san, Kuroo-san, and Ushijima-san all looked into Yoshikawa for us,” Yuutarou said. He twisted dramatically so that Oikawa fell back onto the couch and Yuutarou went down on top of him, heavily seated on Oikawa’s stomach. “None of them could find anything fishy about the company.”

 

“Everyone who’s worked there has glowing testimonies,” Oikawa wheezed, jabbing at Yuutarou’s sides in a bid to unseat him. “Even Ushiwaka’s roommate, who was a lowly intern, had nothing but good things to say. Get off of me _you_ _’re breaking my ribs.”_ Yuutaoru slid off of Oikawa with a bounce.

 

“Point is, we can make a decision on the offers whenever you want,” he said. Kunimi hummed, dropping onto the couch next to Yuutarou.

 

“Well, I know which one I’d prefer,” he said. “None of the others really had incentives, more like offers to take the spell off our hands entirely.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Yuutaoru said. “I think it’d be smart to ask for more information, though, rather than just accept the offer. Make it seem like we’re weighing our options or something like that.”

 

“Sneaky Kindaichi,” Oikawa crooned. “I’ve taught you so well.” Yuutarou shoved him half off the couch, smiling at the peals of laughter Oikawa let out.

 

Ever since they had been rescued from the library the night before, Oikawa had been over the moon. He had hummed to himself the entire walk to the station, grinning wider than Yuutarou had seen him do in months. And when Yuutarou had shown up at the cafe several hours earlier, Oikawa had still been grinning. Yuutarou had the feeling that if Ushijima hadn’t had to work that day, they would have spent Oikawa’s entire shift mooning at each other across the counter.

 

“We would not!” Oikawa cried.

 

“Oh yes you would,” Yuutaoru said. “Do you know how I know?”

 

“How?”

 

“ _Because you did the same damn thing with Kageyama._ Face it, Oikawa-san, you’re a mess.” Oikawa sniffed.

 

“At least I’m a happy mess,” he said. Yuutarou smiled.

 

“I’m glad,” he said.

 

“What’d I miss?” asked Kunimi, halfway through booting up his laptop.

 

“Oikawa-san and I got stuck a study room in the library with Ushijima-san last night,” Yuutarou said.

 

“Oh?” Kunimi glanced up at him. “Did he finally pull his head out of his ass?”

 

“I’m right here!” Oikawa cried.

 

“He did,” Yuutarou said. “It was the most awkward eight minutes of my life. The librarian didn’t show up to let us out quick enough and they just stood there blushing at each other. And it wasn’t even because I was there. They would’ve done it even if they were alone.”

 

“You’re so mean to me!” cried Oikawa.

 

“Kindaichi’s right,” called Kageyama.

 

“I tried to bet someone you wouldn’t kiss him, but no one would take it,” Yuutarou said. “Not even Yamaguchi.”

 

“Speaking of, Watari bet me he would trip over something,” Kunimi said. “Did he?”

 

“There was no tripping,” Yuutaoru said. “Just a lot of stammering.”

 

“All my friends are horrible!” squawked Oikawa.

 

“We are,” Yuutarou agreed. “But it’s just because we all care.”

 

“Gross,” Kunimi commented. Yuutarou grinned at him. “Here, look this over and tell me what you think.”

 

Oikawa draped himself across Yuutaoru’s back as he leaned in to read over Kunimi’s half-written email, and Yuutarou thought to himself that this was what it meant to be happy.

 

-

 

It was everything Akira could do not to chafe when they stopped for the night at the very base of the hill. They were so close, but even he could see that the stop was necessary. By the time Iwaizumi called it, Oikawa was trembling with exertion, his limp more pronounced and his lights gone dim. He leaned heavily against a rock formation and panted while Iwaizumi started digging one of the tents out of his bag. Kindaichi fell over himself in a rush to help out and the unease in Akira’s stomach grew colder. He stopped ignoring the way Oikawa had been tugging on his mental sleeve for the last hour.

 

 _I_ _’m need to go in with Kindaichi to make sure everything’s still in check. Can I trust you to keep watch?_ he asked. Oikawa blinked at him.

 

 _I can try. I don_ _’t know if I’ll be able to get to you if something goes wrong, though._ Akira smiled humorlessly.

 

_If something goes wrong and you can_ _’t get me out, then leave me and get the others out of here. There will be no saving me._

 

Oikawa watched him, his eyes glittering in the sunset and the dull glow of his own magelight. _And what about him_?

 

“Don’t ask me that,” Akira said aloud. Oikawa watched him for a moment longer, then nodded.

 

Akira was silent through the remainder of the setup. He lit the fire for their dinner and ate it without a word, leaning lightly into Kageyama’s side and watching the flames flicker. When everyone had eaten and the fire was growing low, he stood.

 

“Iwaizumi-san, I need you and Kageyama to stay on the other side of those rocks for the time being,” he said. “I need to renew my connection to Kageyama’s magic, and it could get dangerous.” He looked at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi looked back unflinchingly. “Oikawa-san has agreed to supervise, but if something goes wrong then I need you to promise me that you will get him and Kageyama out of here.”

 

“I understand,” Iwaizumi said.

 

“Hang on, Kunimi I-”

 

“Shut up, Kindaichi.” Akira didn’t look away from Iwaizumi. “Do I have your word you’ll keep them safe?”

 

“My word,” Iwaizumi agreed.

 

“So formal,” Oikawa crooned. “Now, run along, Iwa-chan, Tobio-chan. Go hide behind the rocks while we have our little tea party.” Iwaizumi cuffed Oikawa affectionately on the back of the head and made his way to the other side of the rock formation Akira had pointed out. Kageyama stared at Akira for a moment, then followed him without a word. Akira settled on his knees beside the fire.

 

“I need you to sit in front of me and take my hand,” Akira said softly. Kindaichi hesitated before complying.

 

“You said if something goes wrong,” Kindaichi said. “Do you think something will go wrong?”

 

“I think that we’re mashing two very powerful, very dangerous magics together, and that one of them is very unstable. If something _does_ go wrong, it will be catastrophic.” He looked at Kindaichi, at his soft hair and his dark eyes and his earnest face. Kindaichi still thought he could be saved. Kindaichi still thought he wasn’t a monster. Akira’s eyes stung. “I’m too powerful,” he said. “You saw what can happen if I lose control. _That_ _’s_ what we’re getting ourselves into here.”

 

“Okay.” Kindaichi met his gaze steadily, simply.

 

“Okay? Kindaichi, if it goes bad-”

 

“If it goes bad, we’re dead,” Kindaichi said. “I understand, Kunimi. If we do this and it goes wrong, we’re dead. If we don’t do this and it goes wrong, we’re dead and so are the others. This way there’s a chance it’ll just be the two of us. You’re choosing the route that will hurt the fewest people.” Akira supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him. Kindaichi had never been as dumb as people always seemed to think he was, and he had been Akira’s friend for a long time. He knew how Akira thought by now.

 

“Okay,” he said softly. “Then, let me have your hand.”

 

“How do we do this?” Kindaichi asked. Akira turned Kindaichi’s hand over and settled their palms together. Kindaichi’s fingers curled automatically around his wrist, and Akira found his own doing the same.

 

“It’ll be different from last time,” he said. “Before, you ended up in the house by the sea because Kageyama’s magic was looking for me. This time, it will be me using it to find you instead. So there will be a tug and a lot of confusion for a minute, and then there will be a new place, something like a reflection of the two of us. We’re going to explore that place and air everything out, and explore some areas in detail.” Akira looked at their linked hands, though he didn’t really see them. “It’s like exercising your body,” he said. “First you have to stretch. Then you can get into working out specific muscle groups.” He grinned. “Today’s leg day.”

 

“I hate leg day,” Kindaichi groaned. Akira glanced up to see him smiling back.

 

“One more thing,” Akira said, the amusement slipping away like sand through his fingers. “Remember the last time, when I told you that if there’s anything you don’t want me to see it’ll end up hurting us both?”

 

“I remember,” Kindaichi said.

 

“Well, I wasn’t entirely honest with you. I was hiding things, because I had the control to do so.” Akira let his gaze drop. “There will be no hiding anything this time. On either of our parts.”

 

For a long moment, there was silence. Then Kindaichi squeezed Akira’s hand. “Whatever it is,” he said quietly, “it can’t be bad enough to make me hate you as much as you seem to hate yourself.”

 

“If only that were true,” Akira muttered. He looked up at Oikawa leaning against a largish boulder with his arms crossed lazily.

 

“Ready when you are,” Oikawa said. Akira nodded.

 

“Okay,” he said, and looked up at Kindaichi. “Now, close your eyes, and think of home.”

 

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If all goes according to plan, this marks the official halfway point! Thank you so much for those of you who have stuck with me this far. Exciting things are coming up!


	34. Chapter 34

Time was speeding up. Between the unholy workload and the swift descent toward summer, entire weeks went by without Yuutarou realizing. April gave way to May without much ceremony, and before he knew it Yuutarou found himself sitting on the couch in the cafe reading Yoshikawa Enterprises’ third email over Kunimi’s shoulder.

 

“Housing accommodations. So like, they would want us to live on-property?” he asked.

 

“In an off-property apartment,” Kunimi answered, pointing to the next line of text. “Looks like they’ve got one other intern this summer, so they’ll be sharing the space with us. Wonder what their big thing is.”

 

“Or if they have one,” Yuutarou said. “They might be a regular intern, not a superstar spell author like the two of us.” Kunimi shoved Yuutarou’s shoulder.

 

“It’ll be nice not to have to live with your aunt for a summer, huh?” Kunimi asked.

 

Yuutarou grinned. “Honestly, yeah,” he said. “If I had to sit through one more lecture about how psychics are the root of all evil, and I could protect myself if I just rubbed her frog-eye cream on my temples every night, I was going to scream.”

 

“I don’t want to know,” Kunimi said.

 

“Does it say where the apartment is, though?” Yuutarou asked. “I don’t know how I feel about being too far away from Oikawa-san for that long.”

 

“It doesn’t say. I’ll make sure to ask.” Kunimi tapped at his keyboard for a moment, then closed the lid and leaned back on the couch in a movement that didn’t have enough energy to be called a flop. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

 

“Are you sleeping, like at all lately?” Yuutaoru asked.

 

“Maybe three or four hours a night,” Kunimi answered. “It’s fine. I’ve been used to power naps since middle school.”

 

“They’re working you too hard,” Yuutarou said.

 

“Everything works me too hard. Things will settle down in a few weeks, and then pick up a few weeks after that. That’s how these things work.” Kunimi’s eyes flickered like they were going to open, then he apparently thought better of it and slumped into Yuutarou instead. He sighed softly and snuggled closer. “I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

 

“I’m not waking you up, so if you want to get anything done you gotta do it now,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi grumbled wordlessly at him in answer. “Okay then.” Yuutaoru leaned over, ignoring Kunimi’s quiet whine, and fished a book out of his bag. He opened it on what little space in his lap wasn’t being occupied by Kunimi and tried to pretend his heart wasn’t attempting to beat its way out of his chest.

 

Kunimi fell asleep like a leaf falling in autumn, and Yuutarou ached with the tenderness of it. His book lay forgotten on his lap as he watched Kunimi’s eyelids flutter and his lips part gently. A strand of hair fell across Kunimi’s forehead, and Yuutarou’s fingers trembled as he reached to brush it back into place.

 

“Just when I thought I was the gayest person in the room,” Oikawa sighed, standing with a hip cocked next to the sofa.

 

“Is he really asleep?” he asked softly. Oikawa’s head tilted curiously.

 

“Yeah, he’s asleep,” he said. “Why?”

 

“Because when I tell you that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, I don’t really want him to hear it,” Yuutarou replied. Oikawa’s face softened and he sat slowly in the armchair. Yuutarou dropped his eyes back to Kunimi. For some reason, he felt like crying.

 

“You know, a part of me thought this would never happen,” Oikawa said. “There was a bit where I thought maybe Yacchan would do it, but then she went for Chibi-chan instead, and you never even felt a thing. I figured it just wasn’t even an option for you.”

 

“I kind of thought so too,” Yuutarou replied. “Oikawa-san, I don’t know what to do.” He thought of all the advice and encouragement he’d given Oikawa over the years, but every last bit of it sounded flat and useless now. Oikawa smiled.

 

“It’s not so easy, on this side of things,” he said. “I promise you’re going to be okay, though.” Yuutarou opened his mouth to reply, but Kunimi stirred with a soft sound and a scrunching of his nose and fear and exhilaration stole Yuutarou’s words away.

 

 _Maybe we shouldn_ _’t be having this conversation here_ , Yuutarou thought. Oikawa snorted.

 

 _Probably not,_ he agreed. _But we_ are _having it, and soon. You_ _’re not running away on me this time, Kindaichi._

 

 _Wasn_ _’t planning on it._ Kunimi sighed and snuggled closer. Yuutarou all but trembled with emotions he had no names for, had only ever experienced secondhand in Oikawa’s memories. Oikawa gave him a fond smile and shook his head.

 

 _This summer_ _’s gonna be great for you_ , he teased. _Just imagine. An entire month, sharing an apartment. All that close contact, all those early mornings and late nights, all that domesticity. You_ _’re going to explode._

 

“Do you have anything useful to say, Oikawa-san?” hissed Yuutarou. Oikawa beamed at him.

 

“If I wanted to be useful, I’d go fix that espresso machine Tobio-chan has been wrestling with for an hour,” he said. “I’d much rather be unhelpful and obnoxious.”

 

“Mission success,” mumbled Kunimi, cracking an eye open to glare at Oikawa. Yuutarou snorted. There was a crash from behind the counter.

 

“I’d better go save that poor machine from him,” Oikawa sighed. “Kindaichi, are you still coming over to watch that drama with me tonight?”

 

“If I must,” Yuutarou sighed.

 

“You must,” chirped Oikawa, flouncing off with a trail of light. Kunimi snuggled closer to Yuutarou.

 

“Cold,” he whispered. Yuutarou wrapped an arm around Kunimi’s shoulders, frowning.

 

“You’re not getting sick again, are you?” he asked. Kunimi whined softly. “Come on,” Yuutarou sighed, shifting Kunimi mostly off of him. “Let’s get you back to your room while you can still walk.”

 

“Can’t walk,” Kunimi muttered. “You have to carry me.”

 

“Oh, do I now.” Yuutaoru rolled his eyes and detached himself entirely from Kunimi. He slid off the couch to crouch in front of him. “Come on, then,” he sighed. Kunimi shuffled forward to wrap his legs around Yuutarou’s waist and drape his arms across his shoulders, pressing his cheek against Yuutarou’s neck with a happy little noise. Yuutarou hoped he couldn’t see how badly he was blushing as he heaved them both upwards, stooping awkwardly to scoop up both of their bags and his discarded book. “Spoiled.”

 

“I’m worth it,” Kunimi hummed. “I really am cold, though.”

 

“There’s not much I can do about that until we get back to the dorms,” Yuutaoru said.

 

“Hang on,” called Kageyama. Yuutarou turned to see him jog across the store with a thermos in hand. “Make sure he drinks the whole thing,” he said, glaring at Kunimi. Yuutarou laughed and turned so that Kageyama could put the thermos in his bag.

 

“Neither of you is my mom,” Kunimi huffed.

 

“No, but your mom put me in charge of you when you’re sick, and now I’m putting Kindaichi in charge,” Kageyama said. “I’ll call her if you really want me to.”

 

“No,” Kunimi said quickly. “I’ll drink the damn tea. Just leave her out of this.” Kageyama nodded firmly and turned on his heel to stalk back across the shop. Yuutarou waited a moment longer, then turned and left the shop, stooping so that Kunimi didn’t hit his head on the door.

 

“So what’s the deal with your mom?” Yuutarou asked as they passed the criminal justice building and slipped into the little wooded area next to the dorms. Kunimi shrugged.

 

“She’s a great mom,” he said. “But when she gets worried, she gets snarky. And overbearing. And Kageyama does everything she tells him to.”

 

“I mean, most moms are like that,” Yuutarou said.

 

“Kageyama’s isn’t,” Kunimi murmured. “And mine deserves to be as overbearing as she wants, after the things I put her through in middle school.”

 

“Like what?” Yuutarou asked. He could all but feel Kunimi smiling.

 

“Like go on an impromptu camping trip and lose cell service for two days so she had no idea where I was or what was going on,” he said. “Or make her uproot her entire life so we could move to Sendai when I transfered schools. Or forming a psychic partnership without telling her. Or dying my hair pink.”

 

“Pink?” Yuutaoru wheezed. “Oh my god, please tell me you’re not joking about that.”

 

“I dyed it black again the same day,” Kunimi said. “It was a prank. Kuroo magicked a bottle of conditioner to fuck with me.”

 

“Did you get him back?”

 

“It took three weeks for his eyebrows to grow back, and four months for all of his hair,” Kunimi replied. Yuutarou’s laugh cut short when Kunimi shivered violently.

 

“We’re almost there,” he said softly.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Kunimi mumbled. “I’m dying. This is the end, Kindaichi.”

 

“This is the most dramatic I have ever seen you,” Yuutarou remarked.

 

“I’m leaving you all my stuff,” Kunimi continued, as if Yuutaoru hadn’t spoken. “Lev can have my pillows, but don’t let them touch any of my clothes. Tell my mother I love her.”

 

“Any funeral requests?” Yuutaoru asked, wrestling the door to the dorm building open one-handed.

 

“Don’t let Bokuto give a speech,” Kunimi said immediately. “Don’t let Kuroo speak at all.” There was a long pause. “Cover my grave in dahlias,” he said, so quietly Yuutaoru almost didn’t hear it. He smiled and knocked on the door to Kunimi’s dorm.

 

“You got it,” he promised as Lev opened the door and gasped. They helped him get Kunimi inside and bundled into bed, and watched as he drank the entire thermos of tea Kageyama had given them. Yuutaoru left over an hour later, when Kunimi had fallen asleep and Lev had promised no fewer than six times to keep an eye on him and text Yuutaoru if they needed anything at all. Yuutarou allowed himself a glance back as he left, just enough to see a silvery cat curl up, purring, in Kunimi’s lap. He left the dorm.

 

Oikawa was waiting for him at the door to his flat, Yuutarou’s favorite mug filled with hot chocolate and his favorite blanket spread across the back of the couch. He dropped onto the couch and then kept dropping until he was half-sprawled in Oikawa’s lap. The blanket fluttered down to settle gently over him and he closed his eyes.

 

“Why does it hurt so much?” he whispered.

 

“Oh, Kindaichi,” Oikawa sighed, threading his fingers through Yuutarou’s hair. “I know exactly how that feels.”

 

“I always figured it was supposed to be one or the other,” Yuutarou said. “Like, it was either going to be all good or all bad. But this hurts so much, and all I can think about is how happy I am that we’re even friends. It hurts, but I can’t give it up.”

 

“Real life is never simple, Kindaichi. It’s a mess, and it only gets messier when you add in things like this.” Oikawa sighed and his fingers paused. “Soul mates are a funny thing,” he said.

 

“Who said anything about soul mates?” Yuutarou muttered. Oikawa chuckled.

 

“There’s more than one type in the world, you know. Not all soul mates get married and live happily ever after. Some of them are bratty kouhai who refuse to listen when their wise senpai give them sage wisdom.” Despite himself, Yuutarou smiled.

 

“So what makes you think Kunimi and I are soul mates?” he asked.

 

“You two were meant to find each other,” Oikawa said. “The same way you and I were, or Tobio and I or Kunimi-chan and Tobio. The universe just works that way sometimes. The magic that holds everything together sometimes holds two people more tightly than others. Doesn’t mean you’re meant to be together romantically or anything, just that you’re meant to be together. Psychics can see those bonds sometimes, you know. I’ve never seen one as bright as the one between you and Kunimi.”

 

They lapsed into the comfortable silence of two people who knew each other beyond what words could convey, Oikawa stroking Yuutaoru’s hair and both of them pretending not to notice the tears that dripped down Yuutarou’s face and soaked Oikawa’s lap.

 

-

 

The world inside Akira’s mind was an ocean, tossing its white waves this way and that in an angry, powerful, frightened storm. Akira was a single leaf on that tide, powerless against the swells.

 

He took a breath and focused on Kindaichi’s hand in his.

 

The ocean calmed, coalescing into a field of white silence. He squeezed Kindaichi’s hand, and several feet in front of him a figure winked into existence. It stuttered for a moment, trying to find its shape, and then Kindaichi stood across from him. As Kindaichi’s endless black eyes opened, the world took on form and substance, the charred remains of Akira’s worst memory. He bit back a sigh.

 

“This isn’t right,” Kindaichi said softly. Akira looked at him, about to question, when the field flickered slightly around them. It settled back into itself and he shrugged it off.

 

“Okay,” he said, mostly to himself.

 

“What do we do now?” Kindaichi asked. Akira looked at the cinders and flecks of ash floating through the air, and for a moment he found himself awed to find each one a flash of memory. Kageyama’s magic was a wonder he had grown too accustomed to lately. He reached out to touch the nearest scrap of thought and it blossomed between them.

 

“Remember that time you climbed that tree to pick me the ripest apple from the very top?” Akira asked, watching the story unfold in front of him. “You got stuck for over an hour, until a honking car startled you so bad you lost your grip and fell out of the tree.”

 

“I sprained my wrist,” Kindaichi said, and the field flickered strangely again. “My mom was furious with me. She said that if I ever hurt myself doing something that stupid again, she wouldn’t take me to the hospital. But the next summer when I fell off my bike and broke my arm, she took me anyway.” The memory darted forward, through the falling and the helping Kindaichi to his house and the waiting room at the hospital. Akira felt the fear like it was happening then, and some part of him knew that Kindaichi was feeling it too. He took a deep breath; this was going to hurt. The next memory to float between them was the day they met, on Kindaichi’s first day in a magic school. Akira watched the new boy talk his younger self’s ear off, watched himself fall inexplicably into his very first real friendship. Akira’s heart ached horribly.

 

“I never meant to mean anything to anyone,” he whispered, and another memory drifted down to fill the space between them. Akira, sitting alone in a row of desks. Akira, looking out a window at all the other kids playing outside. Akira, eating his lunch by himself with a book open on his desk so that no one would try and be kind, try and talk to him, try and be his friend.

 

“I knew,” Kindaichi said, and Akira was sitting at a different desk, still alone, but watched and wondered about. Kindaichi had been nervous the first time he went to talk to Akira, so very nervous, but he had done it anyway. He had seen the lonely boy in the corner and known in his very soul that he had not been meant to be alone. Kindaichi had walked up to Akira terrified and determined, the same way he was whenever he did something incredible. Kindaichi shook his head, exasperated. “I’m not as wonderful as you seem to think,” he said.

 

Around them, the field flickered. It flashed and stuttered, and all of a sudden it changed. Gone were the ashes and the charred, black earth, replaced with lush green grass and a forest of dahlias. Petals floated between them. “Kindaichi-” whispered Akira, staring around in awe.

 

“It’s you who’s the amazing one,” Kindaichi continued. “You’re the one who will take the world by storm. You’re the one who did something so reckless, to help someone you’d just met.” He shook his head a little helplessly. “I’m not much in comparison.”

 

“You’re the most wonderful person I have ever met,” Akira said, and that was it. That was the trigger that pulled down the memories that Akira hadn’t been hiding but had still been hoping would stay tucked away. The afternoon on Kindaichi’s bedroom floor when Akira had half-realized just what Kindaichi meant to him. The touches he had fought not to lean into. The growing ache in his chest in those last few months, the desperation and the certainty that it would ruin them both. The field turned to ash once more and Akira let out a sob. “You are the most wonderful person,” he insisted. “I tried so hard not to, but I couldn’t help it. No matter how hard I fought you just pulled me right back in. Even though I knew it was wrong, I-”

 

“Akira,” whispered Kindaichi. Akira made himself look, forced himself to let his heart break again. Kindaichi was staring at a memory, just an ordinary morning walk to school, and feeling everything Akira had felt and said nothing about. “Kunimi, I don’t understand.”

 

“You do,” Akira whispered. “You just don’t want to.”

 

“No,” Kindaichi insisted, “I really don’t.”

 

Akira would never have told Kindaichi how he felt, because he knew that Kindaichi wouldn’t feel the same way. He had always allowed himself to hope that someday, when he grew up and moved on and maybe found some other boy to want, Kindaichi would be understanding. He might not be disgusted if it was some other boy.

 

But it wasn’t some other boy. It was Kindaichi, Akira’s best friend. It was the one rule, even Akira knew that. Never fall for your best friend. It never ended well.

 

Kindaichi didn’t want to be there.

 

“No, Kunimi, wait, I-” Kindaichi stammered, reaching out for Akira as the edges of the field began to burn and Akira’s worst fears proved true.

 

-*-


	35. Chapter 35

“Kindaichi get dressed I want a tattoo.” Yuutarou turned to stare at Oikawa standing just inside his doorway. As soon as he looked away from the screen Tsukishima’s character sniped his and Hinata cheered loudly.

“What do you mean, you want a tattoo?” Yuutarou asked, turning back to the game. Oikawa took it as his cue to close the door and flop onto Yuutarou’s bed.

“I mean I want a tattoo,” he said. “What are you not understanding about this?”

“The fact that it’s the first I’ve heard of it, and you’re not the type of person to do things on impulse,” Yuutarou replied. He snuck up behind Yamaguchi’s character and shoved him off a parapet with a grin. “What kind of tattoo and where?”

“Kageyama’s face on his butt,” Tsukishima said.

“I asked what Oikawa-san wanted, not you.” Tsukishima elbowed him in the side.

“I want a river going down my back,” Oikawa said. “And I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I don’t know why you haven’t picked up on it.” Oikawa tossed Yuutarou a line of thought and he followed it through a string of errant musings and deep considerations that he had somehow missed over the past several months. He shrugged and dodged Hinata’s attack.

“Do you have an appointment?” Oikawa did. “Okay, let me finish out this round and then we can go.”

“You should get something too,” Oikawa said idly as he dug through Yuutarou’s nightstand. “Something to make you a little less boring.”

“Right, because the hair that makes him two meters tall isn’t enough,” Yamaguchi commented.

“It would be if he dyed it,” Hinata said. “But even with all that, he is kind of plain looking.”

“I’m right here, you know,” grumbled Yuutarou. The time ran out on the game and he sighed. “All right,” he grumbled, “pass me my pants."

Dressed and adequately styled, Yuutarou followed Oikawa to the station, still puzzling how he could have missed something so big. Oikawa had pages worth of symbolism packed into the design he had chosen, and had talked to the artist three or four times before committing to an appointment.

“Stop thinking so hard about it,” Oikawa said, waving his hand. “You’ve had other things on your mind. And to be fair, I’ve been thinking a lot about Ushiwaka-chan, too. You definitely picked up on that one.”

“Everyone picked up on that,” Yuutaoru grumbled. Oikawa patted him consolingly on the shoulder.

The owner of the little tattoo parlor nestled between the flower shop and the tax office greeted Oikawa warmly when they walked in. She whisked him away to a station near the back of the room, chattering his ear off and leaving Yuutarou to look around at all the photos on the wall.

“Are you interested in anything today?” asked the man behind the counter.

“You should!” called Oikawa. Yuutarou opened his mouth to disagree, but movement outside the shop caught his eye. Kunimi and Iwaizumi were walking past in their work uniforms. Iwaizumi paused to glance inside. Spying Yuutarou, he grinned and dragged Kunimi through the door.

“Please tell me you’re getting a tattoo,” Kunimi said, amusement dripping from his voice.

“I might,” Yuutarou sniffed. “Would that be so surprising?”

“Oikawa dragged you along, didn’t he?” Iwaizumi huffed.

“Actually,” Yuutaoru said slowly, looking back at the photos.

“Seriously?” Kunimi asked. “What would you get?”

Yuutarou blushed. “I’ve been tossing around the idea of some flowers or something for a couple of years now,” he said. “I’ve got a design in my sketchbook, but I never really had the guts to walk into one of these places…”

“Let me see the design,” Kunimi said. Yuutaoru pulled his sketchbook out of his bag and thumbed through to the page he kept folded inside. It was all of his favorite flowers, azaleas, chrysanthemums, sunflowers, dahlias, and baby’s breath.

“I wouldn’t want it big,” he said, flushing. “About, so?” he traced out an area on his upper arm.

“If you want to do it, I’m free for walk ins,” said the man behind the counter. “Three, maybe three and a half hours? Less time than your friend’s will take.”

“Do it!” cried Oikawa. Kunimi handed Yuutarou the page and smiled. He was wearing the eyeliner again, and something about the way the crisp lines crinkled slightly at the corners of his eyes made Yuutarou’s heart beat faster.

“If it’s something you want, you should go for it,” he said. “No pressure or anything, but I think it’d be cool.”

I am not about to get a tattoo because a cute boy said it would be cool, Yuutarou thought furiously at Oikawa.

Yes you are, Oikawa shot back.

“You know,” Yuutaoru said slowly, looking between Kunimi and the page in his hand, “I think I will.”

“Yeah?” Kunimi asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah,” Yuutaoru said. He shrugged. “I’ve got enough money to spare from my scholarship, and since Yoshikawa is paying us I don’t have to save for any of the summer. And you’re right. I’ve wanted to do it for a while.”

Kunimi didn’t say anything, just smiled as Yuutarou handed the page to the artist and followed him to the empty chair. Oikawa was laying on his stomach on the other, shirtless and chatting with the shop owner and Iwaizumi as she prepared her station. The other artist gestured for Yuutaoru to remove his shirt as well.

“We’re going to have to do this on your left shoulder,” he said. “This burn scar seems too fresh to risk it.”

“Burn scar?” Kunimi asked, moving closer.

“Sounds good,” Yuutarou said to the artist with a grin. Kunimi stepped up to Yuutarou’s right side and grabbed his arm.

“There is a scar,” he said softly, tracing the skin from wrist to just above his elbow.

“It wasn’t much of a burn,” Yuutarou said. “Stopped hurting after like a week? I don’t even notice it anymore.”

“Did…” Kunimi dropped his arm and leaned against the divider between stations. “Did I do that?” he asked quietly.

“Technically, I did it,” Yuutarou said. “I was the moron who ignored your warnings and barged in to grab you, remember?”

Kunimi shook his head. “You’re talking about the large-scale test, right? I don’t remember that day. Just what Kageyama and Ito-sensei told me after.”

“Do you want me to tell you what happened?” Yuutaoru asked. The artist, tactfully silent and unobtrusive until that point, dabbed a cleaning solution across Yuutarou’s arm and he hissed at the cold.

“Kageyama told me I lost control of the fire,” Kunimi said softly. Yuutarou let the artist move his arm into the position he wanted and pondered his words.

“You were still conscious, but you were panicking,” he said. “I ignored your warnings and ran forward to grab you before you could get hurt. Your magic started to collapse in on itself and I got grazed. When you saw that, you panicked even more and started trying to get away from me. When it didn’t work, you just passed out.” Yuutarou looked down at his hand clenched around the armrest of the chair. “I’m not sure how you did it, but you put yourself into the same kind of coma Oikawa-san put me in when I was having those fits.”

“It’s a technique they teach people with dangerous affinities, before they bond with a psychic,” Kunimi said softly. “They wouldn’t have made you learn it, but it was the first thing they taught me. It’s a last resort for when you know that you’ll hurt someone otherwise.”

A buzzing filled the air and the needle made contact with Yuutarou’s arm, but he hardly noticed it. Kunimi looked small, folded in on himself and refusing to look at Yuutarou.

“It worked,” Yuutarou said softly. “As soon as you passed out, the fire started to die down. No one got hurt.”

“You did,” Kunimi said.

“Okay, let me rephrase that. You didn’t hurt anyone.” Kunimi looked up at him, his expression quiet. He watched Yuutarou for a long moment before the stormclouds in his eyes cleared. All at once, Yuutarou felt the needle and he winced. “Okay this hurts a lot more than I expected,” he said.

“It’s a needle,” Kunimi droned. “Stabbing you over and over. Of course it hurts.”

“Were you always this sassy?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi blinked sarcastically at him. Yuutarou hadn’t even known something as simple as a blink could be sarcastic.

“Tell me the significance behind the flowers,” Kunimi said. “I know you chose them for a reason.”

“Sunflowers are used in spells for promises and wishes and protection,” Yuutarou said promptly. The pain of the needle faded to something uncomfortable but easy to ignore. “Chrysanthemums are also for protection, and for loyal and devoted love. Azaleas mean ‘take care of yourself for me’. Baby’s breath is self-discipline and staying focused on love.”

“How do you just rattle that off the top of your head?” Kunimi asked, shaking his head. Yuutarou grinned.

“It’s kind of my thing,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I don’t know everything there is to know about fire,” Kunimi said. “And knowing the medicinal uses for plants is one thing, but you know all their old lady symbolism too.”

“I spent a summer learning all of them,” Yuutarou said. “It gets boring in my aunt’s shop.”

“So, this tattoo is promises and protection and loyalty and love,” Kunimi said. “Is there something behind that?”

Yuutarou grinned. “Honestly, they’re just my favorite flowers,” he said. Kunimi leaned over to look at the design again, and if Yuutarou didn’t know better he would think he was blushing.

“So you’re getting this permanently inked onto your skin, for the aesthetic?” Kunimi asked incredulously. “I thought that’d be what Oikawa-san was doing, not you.”

“Actually, Oikawa-san’s has a lot of meaning,” Yuutaoru said. “I bet he’d love to tell you about it.”

“You bet right, Kindaichi,” crowed Oikawa.

“Too bad I don’t care,” Kunimi said. Oikawa squawked and Iwaizumi laughed. Warmth and fuzziness and all manner of other mushy feelings settled in Yuutaoru’s chest and he smiled.

Later, when he was sitting on Oikawa’s couch and telling himself not to scratch at it, he thought about the way Kunimi had looked in the shop, the way his work uniform had made his eyes seem bluer and the way he had smiled and laughed and frowned and simply looked at Yuutarou. Oikawa nudged Yuutarou’s knee and he pulled out of the memory reluctantly.

“Hey, what is it with you two and dahlias?” Oikawa asked. Yuutarou cocked his head in question. “I mean, they’re your favorite flower, and his. Which is weird, because it’s not that common. And whenever they’re mentioned, Kunimi-chan gets all blushy and adorable.”

“Does he?” Yuutarou asked. He twisted his arm to see the pair of dahlias, white and red, sitting in one corner of the tattoo. “I knew they were his favorite, but I’ve never really thought about it. They mean-”

“Lasting commitment between two people, strength and focus, I know, I know,” Oikawa interrupted. “I don’t care what they mean to the flower world, I care what they mean to the two of you.”

Yuutarou shook his head. “I’m not really sure,” he said. “They’re just my favorites. I like the way they look.”

“They remind you of home,” Oikawa said.

“Yeah, I guess they do.” Oikawa frowned.

“They remind him of home too,” he said.

“Do they?”

Oikawa shrugged, the furrows in his brow smoothing. “Whatever,” he said cheerfully. “Just one more sign that you’re meant to be together.”

“Shut up, Oikawa-san,” Yuutaoru said, but he was blushing happily nevertheless.

-

The field was burning, burning, burning just like everything Akira had ever touched. This was why he had never meant to tell Kindaichi how he felt, why he had meant to fade silently from his life. He was a monster, a thing of claws and fangs and wanting that would consume everything around him until there was nothing left but ashes.

“No, Kunimi, will you listen, you-”

Kindaichi would hate him now, Akira was sure of it. That was how these stories always turned out, after all. It was Akira’s fault. It was Akira who couldn’t get a handle on these feelings, who couldn’t follow one simple rule, who-

“Akira.” Skinny arms folded around Akira’s torso and he collapsed into Kindaichi’s chest with a whimper. “Geez, for someone so smart, you’re pretty dumb,” Kindaichi said, stroking Akira’s hair gently. A soft breeze blew around them and a flower petal brushed against Akira’s cheek.

“You should hate me,” Akira sobbed.

“Who says?” whispered Kindaichi. He pulled Akira closer and eased them to the ground, Akira in Kindaichi’s lap. “You’re my best friend, Kunimi. I told you there was nothing you can do to make me hate you.”

“But I-”

“No,” Kindaichi interrupted. “Did you really think I would hate you for that?”

“Don’t you?” Akira asked.

“Nah. ‘Sides, I don’t really like girls myself. Don’t like anyone, actually, but still.” Akira snorted. “I wish you’d told me, though,” Kindaichi said. “Instead of trying to hide and carry it all on your own. You’re always doing that.”

“I had to,” Akira said. “I knew something was going to happen. I didn’t know when, but I figured I’d lose you eventually.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you haven’t lost me.”

Akira shook his head. He turned to watch a new memory unfold, one of the nights on the hilltop outside his hometown when he had let out as much fire as he dared. “I was always too powerful,” he said. “I knew that they would take me away, because that’s what they do with powerful magi. But I didn’t want to leave you, so I tried to drag it out as long as I could. And I ended up almost killing you, and everyone in our class.”

“But you didn’t,” Kindaichi said.

“I would have. If Sensei hadn’t been there with the barrier spell, someone would have gotten hurt. And it would have been you, because you’re always standing too close to the flame. Literally.” Kindaichi shook his head, and said nothing. For a long time, they watched a parade of memories float by, exploring the past four years of their friendship.

“Hey, I have an awkward question,” Kindaichi said.

“You have an awkward everything,” Akira muttered. “What’s up?”

“Never mind.”

“Kindaichi.”

“No, seriously, forget I brought it up.”

“Kindaichi.”

“What is it that you even like about me?” Kindaichi asked in a rush, as though if he said it fast enough Akira wouldn’t answer. Akira snorted.

“Lots of things,” he said. “You were my only friend for a long time, you know.”

“Yeah, but only friend doesn’t always mean you like, like someone,” Kindaichi said. Akira sat up, shuffling out of Kindaichi’s lap but leaving their shoulders pressed together. He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned his chin on them.

“I don’t really know what the first thing was,” he said. “It started a long time before I noticed it. But you saw the day I realized.”

“Yeah, but not why,” Kindaichi insisted. “There’s nothing all that special about me.”

Akira frowned. Everything about Kindaichi was special. He was one of those rare and perfect souls that made the world better just by existing in it. There had to be something Akira could show him, some proof of-

“The dahlia,” he said suddenly, and the memory formed in front of them.

“That was the day before the benchmark,” Kindaichi said. “That was ages after.”

“Yeah, but it’s still a good example,” Akira said. “You knew how upset I was about the exams, and you grew it to make me feel better. You grew dozens of them, trying to get it right. You could’ve been doing anything with that time and that magic, but instead you used it to make me happy. That’s what I like about you.”

“I don’t really get it,” Kindaichi said slowly. “I think maybe I might get it eventually? But I don’t know if I can… if I can feel the same, you know?”

“I never expected you to,” Akira whispered. “That’s why I wasn’t going to tell you. And because even if someday you did feel the same, you deserve way better than me.”

“Will you stop that?” Kindaichi groaned. “I don’t like it when people pick on my best friend.”

“Kindaichi, it’s just the truth,” Akira said.

“Not the way I see it,” Kindaichi growled. “I know you’ve got it in your head that you’re a monster and that you’re going to leave because it’s what’s best for me, but I’m telling you I won’t let you. I care too much.”

Akira didn’t point out that it was useless to care the way Kindaichi did, and even more useless to care the way Akira did. They both thought they knew how this would play out, and only one of them could be right. A hand on Akira’s shoulder - his real shoulder - left any argument he had dying on his lips.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ve been here too long. It’s not healthy to spend too much time in a psychic landscape; you might forget the way back to your body.”

“Can we come back here?” Kindaichi asked. Akira looked out across the field, at the odd little ball flowers and the petals floating in the wind. He felt Kindaichi pressed against his side and he was filled with dreadful longing.

“I wish we could,” he whispered. “I really, really do.”

He pulled away from Kindaichi and drew his thoughts back to himself. For the thinnest of moments he could feel Kindaichi, raw and hurting and wishing desperately for a way to reach across the void between them. He took a deep breath and dropped Kindaichi’s hand, and the field faded away. When he opened his eyes to find their campsite riotous with dahlias, he closed them again and pretended he didn’t feel like a tree hollowed by lightning.

It almost worked.

-*-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this week's chapter is a day late I'm such a loser please forgive me!


	36. Chapter 36

Hinata insisted on having a sending-off party a few days before Yuutarou and Kunimi were set to leave for their internship. It was the one time Yuutarou ever saw Kunimi accept an invitation to Kiti’s house without a fight.

“You can come with me if you want,” Kunimi said, smirking like he already knew Yuutarou’s answer.

“Hinata will cry if I go,” Yuutarou said. “Besides, do you really want to hang around me all day today? We’re going to be stuck together for over a month, you know.”

“What difference does that make?” Kunimi asked. Yuutarou didn’t understand the question, but he shrugged it off. “If I can get away early enough I might make an appearance,” Kunimi continued.

“No rush,” Yuutarou said with a grin. “Take all the time you need.” Kunimi rolled his eyes and made his goodbyes, leaving the cafe in a tinkle of little bells. Yuutarou didn’t have long to wait before the bells tinkled again and Hinata launched himself into Yuutarou’s armchair.

“Kindaichi!” he screeched into Yuutarou’s ear.

“You know, you’ve gone the whole summer without seeing me before,” Yuutarou said, shoving Hinata off of his lap. Hinata pouted up at him from the floor and Yuutaoru willed himself not to feel guilty.

“But this is different,” Hinata whined. Tsukishima scooped Hinata up and deposited him on the couch. Yachi sat on Hinata’s other side and Yamaguchi flopped into the empty armchair.

“How so?” Yuutaoru asked.

“I don’t know, it just is.”

“Shouyou, you’ll be fine,” Tsukishima said.

“No I won’t, Kindaichi’s going away!”

“What, am I not good enough for you?” Tsukishima laughed. The laughter fell away when he noticed Hinata still pouting at him. “Oh my god, I’m not, am I?”

“Of course you are, Kei,” Hinata soothed while Yuutarou and Yamaguchi snickered. “You’re more than enough.”

“Whatever,” muttered Tsukishima. “Did Oikawa-san decide if he was coming with us or not?”

“He couldn’t get anyone to cover his shift,” Yuutarou said. “So as soon as Kyoutani’s done with whatever he’s doing, we can go.”

As though summoned by Yuutaoru’s words, the door to the back swung open and Kyoutani appeared, walking backwards and shouting. Yahaba followed him out, grinning as smarmily as he could, and Kyoutani threw his apron at his face. “Let’s go,” he growled when he turned around and caught sight of the others waiting for him. Yamaguchi laughed and stood to throw an arm around his shoulder, leading the way out of the cafe.

They took the train to the big mall on the other side of town, being as disruptive and rowdy as they could without actually causing any problems for the people around them. Yuutarou bathed in the noise, and in the annoyed glares they received from the other passengers. This summer may have had more going for it than any of the ones previous, but he was still going to miss this.

When their stop arrived and they walked into the mall, Hinata made it an entire thirty seconds before demanding they stop at the greasy American food stand - tying his personal record.

“We’re not going to get anywhere,” Yamaguchi complained. “We’re supposed to eat after we shop, not before.” Yuutarou waggled his eyebrows at him, munching obscenely on his corn. Yamaguchi snorted.

“Do you have everything you need for your trip, Kindaichi-kun?” asked Yachi. “Actually, you should probably get a new bag. And your pencil sharpener needs to be replaced. And it might be best if-”

“Thank you, Yachi-san,” Yuutarou laughed. Tsukishima nudged her gently until her eyes cleared and she looked down sheepishly.

“I wanted to check out the linen store while we’re here,” Yamaguchi said. “New pillowcases.” Kyoutani turned red and smacked him while he cackled.

“Oh,” said Yuutarou, “can we go to the-”

“No,” interrupted Tsukishima.

“But-”

“No flower shops.”

“But Kei, he’s not gonna be in the dorm after tomorrow,” said Hinata.

“No, he’s going to be in an apartment,” Tsukishima said. “And I’m not letting him go crazy on the plants again. Kunimi can thank me for this later.”

“But I need potting soil,” Yuutarou said, going for miserable. He slumped ever so slightly and stared down at his plate.

“You monster,” gasped Yamaguchi.

“I stand by what I said,” sniffed Tsukishima. “Now, if everyone is finished-” he glared at Hinata “-we should get the art store done first, since that’s probably gonna take the longest.” They stood and threw out their garbage with the usual amount of chaos and headed off to shop in high spirits.

It was during the third or fourth shop, when Yuutarou was sitting outside the linen store transferring all of his things into his new bag, that he heard familiar, absurd laughter and looked up. A grin stretched across his lips as he saw Kuroo catch sight of him and start forward a little faster. He was carrying a cheering Sugawara on his back, and Kunimi, Kenma, Lev, Bokuto, and Tanaka all followed behind them.

“What’s a pretty shallot like you doing all alone in a place like this?” Kuroo crowed. Yuutarou laughed.

“My friends are in there,” he said, pointing. “I stayed outside to put my stuff away. What are all of you doing here?”

“We managed to wrangle your plans out of Kunimi and decided we would try and meet up with you,” Sugawara answered. The others caught up as he finished talking.

“It’s not my fault,” Kunimi grumbled.

“Holy shit, you did get a tattoo!” Bokuto yelled, shoving past Kunimi to crowd closer to Yuutarou. “I figured Kunimi was making it up to make you seem impressive.” Kuroo lowered Sugawara to his feet, anticipation bright on his face. Kunimi, Kenma, and Sugawara all took a careful step back.

“I’m very impressive,” Yuutarou sniffed, but he couldn’t keep up the guise in the face of Bokuto’s blatant enthusiasm.

“I tried once,” Bokuto said suddenly, propping his leg up on the bench Yuutarou was sitting on. He pointed to a single thin line of black on his calf.

“He almost passed out, even with me there to take his mind of of it,” Kuroo laughed.

“It hurt so bad!” Bokuto cried.

“Nah, bro, you’re just a wimp.” Bokuto shouted something unintelligible and launched himself at Kuroo. They went down in a pile of laughter and obscenities, then all of a sudden they both slumped, vacant-eyed, to the floor.

“That’s enough of that,” Sugawara said primly. The fog lifted, but Kuroo and Bokuto both lay still, dazed.

“Is that even legal?” Yuutarou laughed.

“Sure it is,” Sugawara sniffed. “I only did it to Tetsurou. It’s not my fault it transferred through their connection.” Tsukishima came out of the store and gave Kuroo and Bokuto an unimpressed look.

“How do you attract people like this?” he asked Yuutarou.

“He attracted you too,” Kunimi pointed out, dropping onto the bench beside Yuutarou.

“Tsukki why won’t you love us?” gasped Kuroo.

“You know him?” asked Yuutarou.

“Kuroo-san was the TA in two of Tsukki’s classes a couple of years ago,” said Yamaguchi. He laced the fingers of the hand not holding a bag from the store with Kyoutani’s and smiled. “We’re gonna head out,” he said. “Kentarou’s mom wants us over early to help start dinner.” He tugged Kyoutani away before the stress of too many new people at once could do more than make Kyoutani’s shoulders tense.

“Anyway,” said Kuroo, shoving Bokuto off of him at last, “now that we’re all here, we should do something together.”

“Like what?” asked Tsukishima, sounding like he would rather cut his own hands off than spend time with Kuroo.

“Like the arcade!” cried Bokuto.

“Arcade!” cheered Tanaka and Hinata. Yuutarou laughed.

“Sounds fun,” he said. “I think it’s right down those stairs.”

They made their way to the arcade in a clump of chatter and laughter, youth being young. Yuutarou and Kunimi walked at the back of the group until a sudden surge in the crowd separated them from the others. Kunimi stumbled, grabbing Yuutarou’s hand for support.

He didn’t let go, even when he regained his footing and they joined up with the others.

Bokuto, Yachi, and Sugawara immediately launched into a tournament-style competition on the first-person shooter games, Tanaka, Kuroo, and Lev cheering first one and then another. Kenma wandered off to another game, Hinata chattering in his ear and Tsukishima following Hinata.

“What do you want to play?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi shrugged.

“I’m not really into most of these kinds of games,” he said. “I prefer playing at home.” Yuutarou watched his eyes sweep over the room, looking up rapidly when he caught them pausing on something. He grinned and dragged Kunimi over to the skill crane. “You know these things are rigged, right?” Kunimi deadpanned.

“Not if you know how to work them,” Yuutaoru replied. “Now, what’s your pleasure?”

“Nothing.”

“Kunimi.”

Kunimi blushed, looking anywhere but at Yuutaoru. “The black bear,” he muttered. Yuutarou grinned and dropped Kunimi’s hand - a little reluctantly - to dig a 100 yen coin from his pocket.

“Watch and be amazed,” he crooned, dropping the coin into the machine. Obnoxious music blared through the speakers and he took hold of the joystick, maneuvering the claw over the stuffed bear with spiky hair and a wide grin. He turned to grin at Kunimi and pushed the button. He did not look up as the claw descended; it was part of the trick. “They can smell fear,” he whispered conspiratorially to Kunimi. “If it knows you want what it has, it’ll do everything in its power to keep you from getting it.”

“It’s a machine,” Kunimi said, but there was laughter sparkling in his steel-blue eyes.

“It’s an asshole,” Yuutarou replied, just as the music changed. He turned to see his prize sitting in the collection area and grinned wider. He pulled it out and presented it to Kunimi. “For you,” he said grandly.

Kunimi took the bear and blushed, hugging it close to his chest. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You should get something for you too.”

“I don’t know what I would get,” he said, just as he caught sight of a sleepy-eyed plush otter. He pulled out another coin and hoped he wasn’t blushing too hard. He pulled it out of the collection area and plastered a grin on his face.

“Cute,” Kunimi said, and he sounded sincere. Yuutarou tried unsuccessfully to ignore the mushy-tingly-buzzing-warm feeling in his chest.

“They’re probably gonna be at that tournament for a while,” he said softly. “Do you wanna play something else? Or if you want we can just ditch them.”

“Where else do you have to go?” Kunimi asked.

Yuutaoru grinned. “I’m not supposed to go to the flower shop unsupervised,” he said. “But I need potting soil and you count as supervision.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” Kunimi said, but he turned to the exit nonetheless. Yuutarou beamed and hurried after him.

If Yuutaoru was carrying three new houseplants when they met up with the others an hour later, well. A new apartment needed plants. It wasn’t his fault his supervision sucked. And besides, he had needed something to distract him from the fond way Kunimi kept watching him talk to the plants in the shop.

“I can’t trust you with anyone,” Tsukishima grumbled as they left the mall.

“Don’t worry,” Kunimi said. “I am never taking him there again.” Yuutarou wondered as the others laughed why no one else could tell Kunimi was being utterly sarcastic. Then he laughed too.

-

With two tents, there was no way to divide up the sleeping arrangements that wouldn’t be awkward. They ended up with Kindaichi in the larger tent with Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and Akira wasn’t sure how to feel about the bitter taste that left in his mouth. He lay in the darkness staring at the canvas wall in front of him and ached.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Kageyama whispered. Akira startled; he hadn’t know Kageyama was still awake.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” he whispered back. There came the sound of rustling fabric and then Kageyama’s arms wrapped around Akira and pulled him close.

“The whole situation’s messed up,” Kageyama whispered. The pain in his voice stabbed through some of the noise in Akira’s head and he rolled over to look at him.

“Spill,” he ordered. Kageyama set his jaw stubbornly and Akira poked him in the side. “Spill.”

“Oikawa-san and I were friends,” he blurted. He paused for a moment, as though listening for any noise from the other tent. “We were friends,” he continued, “and now he hates me. But even though I keep trying to, I can’t hate him back.”

“I think he’s scared of you,” Akira said.

“Same difference,” muttered Kageyama. “You know, when I was a kid, all I wanted was for him to be proud of me. He was the coolest, bravest, most heroic person I had ever met, and I just wanted to be like him. I followed him around like a puppy, but he never seemed to mind. Until that day. After that, of course he never wanted anything to do with me. I wouldn’t have either.”

“It’s not fair to keep blaming yourself for that,” Akira whispered.

“I know,” Kageyama said. “But it’s not fair to want to be his friend again either. I hurt him, and I can’t change that.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you can’t move forward. I’m sure if the two of you sat down and worked through all this, you’d at least be able to be civil around each other.” Kageyama snorted.

“What makes you think that?” he muttered.

“Because Oikawa-san is just like you.” Akira stroked some of Kageyama’s bangs out of his face and sighed. “Two stars that come too close to each other create violent cosmic events,” he said. “But sometimes they find balance and orbit one another in harmony.”

“We’re not talking about stars,” Kageyama said, brow furrowing. Akira smiled.

“Close enough,” he said. “You and Oikawa-san are both very powerful, in different ways. You’re also very loyal and not sure you deserve the loyalty you get from others. You’re scared of yourselves, and scared that people will find out you don’t have everything as under control as you seem to. All either of you wants is to love and be loved, but I don’t think you can see that.”

“That doesn’t help me,” Kageyama said, helplessly. He blinked rapidly and broke eye-contact to glare at Akira’s throat.

“I know it doesn’t,” Akira said. “Look, Kageyama, I don’t know if it will ever get better. I don’t know if Oikawa-san will ever forgive you, or if you two will ever be friends again. But I know that it’s possible. As long as you two give each other the chance, you’re both capable of great things. Even as great as this.”

“You’re just telling me this to avoid talking about your own problems,” Kageyama muttered.

“What problems?” Akira sniffed. Kageyama snorted.

“When this is over, what happens?” he asked. “Will you and Kindaichi go back to how you were?” There was insecurity wobbling in Kageyama’s voice and Akira drew him closer.

“No,” he whispered, trying to sound certain. “Because even if we get your magic out of him and fix this whole mess, it doesn’t change what I am. Being around me is too dangerous, and I’ll only end up hurting him.”

“If it’s too dangerous for him, it’s too dangerous for me,” Kageyama said.

“Yes, but you’re legally stuck with me,” Akira replied. “And anyway, there are ways for you to help yourself if I lose control. Kindaichi doesn’t have any of your safeguards.”

“He’s your best friend,” Kageyama muttered. Akira took a deep breath and thought about Kindaichi, his first friend. For a long time, his only friend. Then he thought about his surly roommate, the one who made walls shake when he had nightmares - and who had nightmares almost every night in the beginning. He thought of Kageyama trusting him with his deepest secrets, only days after meeting him. He thought of Kageyama, so desperate for change that he was willing to put everything in Akira’s hands. Kageyama, who already had so many friends but didn’t understand that all of them would do anything for them. He thought of Kiti’s sad looks and Lev’s attempts to goad Kageyama into playing with them and Kenma’s habit of curling against Kageyama’s side and Bokuto ruffling his hair and Kuroo grinning at him and a thousand other moments. He thought of Kageyama, lying in the guest room of his parents’ apartment, his hand fisted in Akira’s shirt. He made a choice.

“You are my best friend,” he whispered. “The part of my life that I spent with him is over now. Once we fix all of this, it’ll be done for good. I’ll say goodbye to him and we’ll go back to school and everything will be the way it’s supposed to be.”

“How’s that?” Kageyama asked.

“You and me against the world,” Akira replied. “Together, we might even survive Oikawa-san.”

“And Saito-sensei’s quizzes,” Kageyama added.

“The cafeteria food on Tuesdays.”

“Sakeo-nee’s cleaning sprees.”

“Lev.”

Kageyama chortled, biting his lip to muffle the sound. Akira hid his own smile in Kageyama’s hair and simply felt the weight of him in his arms. Kageyama snuffled closer. “You’re warm,” he murmured.

“Get some sleep,” Akira whispered, stroking Kageyama’s hair. “I’ll watch over you.” Kageyama mumbled something Akira couldn’t make out, and his breaths turned even and slow. Akira stared at the side of the tent, watching as Oikawa’s silhouette stood and moved back to his own tent. He closed his eyes and waited for morning.

-*-


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus chapter this week for the lovely Rose's birthday.

Yuutarou spent the last day before moving to Yoshikawa Enterprises’ apartment at Oikawa’s flat. Though they both fully expected to see each other during the break, neither one was comfortable with Yuutarou leaving without some intensive practice. It felt much like it had when Yuutaoru had been in high school and Oikawa would come home on weekends to stuff all the practice he could get into the few hours they had together.

 

“Fine,” Oikawa snapped. “If you don’t want to talk about my love life, find something else to talk about.” It was _just_ like high school.

 

“I never said I didn’t,” Yuutarou laughed, poking his toes at Oikawa’s stomach. “I’m just laughing at you for fixating on his tie like that.”

 

“It was such a dumb tie,” Oikawa cried. “Why did it look so good on him? Why did I have to see him in a suit at all? I could have gone my whole life without knowing that Ushijima Wakatoshi looked that good in a suit.”

 

“It would have come up eventually,” Yuutarou said. “He’s your- actually, _is_ he your boyfriend now? Has that been established?”

 

“Beats me,” Oikawa said around a mouthful of milkbread. “We’ve been on three dates now, two of them with Tobio, and I still can’t get a read on the guy.”

 

“At least you know he likes you,” Yuutarou said. “I thought we’d never establish that.

 

“Yes, well, who wouldn’t like me?” Oikawa sniffed. The timer on the table chimed. “Okay, ready to go again?”

 

“Please swallow all of your food before we do,” Yuutarou droned. Oikawa stuck his tongue out, covered in half-chewed milkbread, and Yuutarou kicked him. Oikawa swallowed and grinned, and the next moment they were in the restaurant decorated for Yuutarou’s eighteenth birthday party. “Wonder if this place is ever gonna change again,” Yuutarou said.

 

“What would it change to?” Oikawa asked. Yuutarou shrugged. “Anyway, pick a topic,” Oikawa said.

 

“Nuh-uh, I picked last time. It’s your turn.” Oikawa hummed and dropped into a chair, looking out the window.

 

“You nervous about the internship?” he asked. The window flickered through a rapid series of images, all having to do with Yoshikawa Enterprises.

 

“I don’t really know,” Yuutarou said. “A part of me, maybe? But mostly I’m just relieved not to have to stay with my aunt.”

 

“How about living with Kunimi-chan, then?” Oikawa asked with a grin. “Here, picture it.” The window flickered again, this time changing to a generic apartment scene. Kunimi stood in the kitchen, wearing pajamas with his hair mussed, blinking sleepily up at Yuutarou.

 

“He’s not that much shorter than me,” Yuutarou muttered, but he was blushing furiously.

 

“Just imagine, all that alone time together,” Oikawa said, changing the window image to a night on the couch, Kunimi reading a book and Yuutarou sprawled beside him with a television remote in his hand.

 

“There’s going to be another person living there,” Yuutarou argued.

 

“Fine, try this.” Kunimi, fresh from the shower, water dripping from his hair. Yuutarou rolled his eyes.

 

“You don’t have a very good imagination,” he said. The image shuddered, trying to keep its already weak form, then disappeared.

 

“Why are you no fun?” Oikawa whined. Yuutarou sighed and lowered himself to sit on the floor at Oikawa’s feet. He dropped his forehead to Oikawa’s knee.

 

“Okay, now I’m getting nervous,” he whispered.

 

Oikawa stroked his fingers through Yuutarou’s hair. “It’s going to be okay, Kindaichi,” he said. “Promise.”

 

“I don’t know if I can do this, Oikawa-san.” Oikawa snorted.

 

“Trust me, you can do anything you set your mind to. And if that thing is not making things weird between you and Kunimi-chan, then you’re better off than you think.” Yuutarou glanced up at him.

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“The fact that you two are so close,” Oikawa said. “Even though you’ve just met each other. Remember that talk we had about soul mates?”

 

“I don’t think-”

 

“It’s rude to interrupt your senpai,” Oikawa scolded. He grinned and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

 

Yuutarou let Oikawa pull him to his feet and followed him out of the restaurant to the motionless street outside. He glanced at the storefronts, the fleeting glimpses of his stray thoughts plastered here and there like windows to other worlds. Oikawa watched them as well, a fond smile on his face.

 

“When I met Iwa-chan, I didn’t want to like him,” he said, and the windows switched to Oikawa’s thoughts instead. Memories of physical therapy and the boy with the broken leg and the spiky hair paraded past. “I didn’t like anyone. Especially the nurses and doctors who kept telling me how hopeful they were, as if that could change the fact that every movement was agony. But then there was Iwa-chan, a boy my age who was relearning to walk and who didn’t take any shit from anyone. He wormed his way into my heart with his constant scowling and swearing and refusal to baby me.”

 

“Are you saying that Kunimi is my Iwaizumi-san?” Yuutarou droned.

 

“No,” Laughed Oikawa. “I’m saying you’re his Iwa-chan. Kunimi-chan doesn’t make friends easily, you know. I’ve known him for years, since I reconnected with Tobio, and even now I don’t think he would call me his friend. But you knew him for a month before he was falling asleep on your shoulder and lighting up every time you walked into the room.”

 

“Oikawa-san, I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” Yuutarou said.

 

“I’m not trying to say anything,” Oikawa replied. “I’m just pointing out the facts. I think you’ll be fine, Kindaichi, no matter what happens in that apartment.”

 

“I wish I had some of your certainty,” Yuutaoru muttered.

 

“Can’t give you any,” Oikawa chirped. “Besides, you’ve seen how certain I am with Ushiwaka. We’re in the same boat here, you and I.”

 

“Oh, god, no!” cried Yuutarou, just to see Oikawa laugh. A storefront caught his eye and he pulled Oikawa to a stop. “You know, it’s been a while since I admitted you’re pretty incredible,” he said, watching through the window as Oikawa took his first steps after the accident. Oikawa tilted his head and hummed.

 

“It’s weird when you’re nice to me,” he said. “Reminds me of when we were teenagers.” Yuutarou laughed.

 

“I’m just proud is all,” he said. “I know how much it means that you’ve come so far. And I’m really happy for you. About Ushijima-san.”

 

“Shut up,” Oikawa muttered even as he leaned his head on Yuutarou’s shoulder. “I thought I was supposed to be the doting one.”

 

“You were made to be doted on,” Yuutarou said. “Ask anyone who loves you.” Distantly, Yuutarou could just make out a faint beeping sound. Oikawa smiled at him, and the street faded back to Oikawa’s flat.

 

Yuutarou blinked his eyes open to find Iwaizumi leaning against a wall, watching them. “Have either of you eaten?” he asked when he was sure Yuutarou was entirely present.

 

“Breakfast,” Yuutarou said. “We were going to get lunch after this session.” Iwaizumi huffed fondly and held up a take out bag. “This is why he’s my favorite senpai,” Yuutarou told Oikawa.

 

“That’s fine,” Oikawa said, stretching his legs out so that one conveniently collided with Yuutarou’s face. “There’s no accounting for taste.” Iwaizumi wedged his way onto the couch and started passing out take out containers and chopsticks and Yuutarou settled into the comfort of warm food and good company.

 

“So have you two worked out how Kindaichi’s gonna ask Kunimi out yet?” Iwaizumi asked around a mouthful of noodles. Yuutarou choked on his food.

 

“Easy there, Iwa-chan. We’ve only just gotten him to admit he even likes Kunimi-chan.”

 

“Iwaizumi-san, I trusted you! Why are you doing this too?” Yuutarou cried.

 

“’Cause I care about you,” said Iwaizumi. “So, how are you gonna ask him out?”

 

“No!” Yuutaoru huffed. “I’m not asking Kunimi out. There’s no reason to.”

 

“Of course there is,” Iwaizumi said.

 

“Iwaizumi-san, it’s only a good idea if he likes me back. Which he doesn’t. So there’s no reason to.” Iwaizumi gave him a strange look, then turned it on Oikawa, who shrugged.

 

“Anyway, I think we’ve done just about everything we can,” Oikawa said. “Do you want to head over to the Grind a little early and harass Tobio some?”

 

“Do I want to go to work with you and watch you flirt with your boyfriend?” mused Yuutarou.

 

“Oh don’t say it like it’s not exactly where you want to be right now,” Oikawa snapped. Yuutarou grinned and stuffed the last of his lunch in his mouth.

 

“Let’s go,” he said, standing abruptly enough to knock Oikawa half off the couch. He darted to the door, pausing only long enough to grab his shoes before taking off down the hall with Oikawa shrieking and chasing after him.

 

They arrived at the cafe out of breath and still giggling. Kunimi looked up from his spot on the couch, watching them collapse into Yuutarou’s chair in a pile of limbs and laughter.

 

“Having fun?” he asked.

 

“He pushed me off the couch!” Oikawa screeched.

 

“Did you deserve it?” Kunimi asked.

 

“No!”

 

“Yes he did.”

 

“No I didn’t!”

 

Kunimi laughed and everything in Yuutarou stopped to listen. He remembered Iwaizumi’s question and found himself blushing and looking away.

 

“So are you two all set for your big move tomorrow?” Oikawa asked, blundering straight through Yuutaoru’s awkwardness with practiced ease.

 

“Nope,” said Kunimi lazily. “I’m putting off the last of my packing as long as possible.”

 

“Kindaichi’s been packed for the last week,” Oikawa said cheerily. “I think he’s excited.”

 

“No, I just wanted to make sure I had everything,” Yuutarou argued. “Plus, Tsukishima doesn’t let me procrastinate on things like this. I think he was trying to avoid having a crisis tonight because I couldn’t remember if I’d packed my extra pencils or not.”

 

“Did you pack your extra pencils?” Kunimi asked. Yuutarou frowned.

 

“I think so,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I did.”

 

“Are you ever anything less than a disaster?” It was so fondly asked that Yuutarou’s heart felt too big for his body.

 

Oikawa grinned and patted Yuutaoru on the head. “Our Kindaichi is a precious butterfly and we love him very much,” he said.

 

“We do,” Kunimi agreed. Yuutarou ducked out from under Oikawa’s hand, whining wordlessly into his shoulder. He could just barely see Kunimi smiling at the two of them and prayed his cheeks didn’t look nearly as red as they felt.

 

It hadn’t been a problem before, not really. But now that Iwaizumi had brought it up, Yuutaoru couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to ask Kunimi out. To go on a date with him, to hold his hand like he had at the mall and have it mean something. To blush all he wanted without having to worry that Kunimi would think he was weird, or worse, catch on and hate him for it. The next month suddenly stretched before him, and he was terrified. There was no way he could get through this without ruining everything.

 

 _I need you to calm down,_ Oikawa hummed. _I can_ _’t start my shift until I know you’re going to be okay._

 

 _I_ _’m fine,_ Yuutarou replied. _I_ _’ll make some excuse about remembering something I haven’t packed yet and then go panic somewhere else._

 

 _Good plan._ Oikawa ruffled his hair again and started untangling himself from Yuutarou and the chair. _I promise, you_ _’re going to be fine. You will make it through this summer intact._

 

 _I sure hope so,_ Yuutaoru thought, watching the way Kunimi snickered when Oikawa struggled with his balance. He took a deep breath to beat down the swell of panic enough to make his escape and slapped a smile on his face.

 

-

 

Dawn reached Akira before sleep did, the first rays piercing through the thin canvas of the tent like an unfriendly reminder of every way Akira had failed. He blinked into the brightness for a long moment before rolling over to shake Kageyama awake. They stumbled out of their tent to find the others already awake, looking at their own tent in silence.

 

“What’s going on?” asked Akira. Iwaizumi pointed mutely, and as Akira turned to look, he wondered if he really was asleep after all.

 

They had camped in an empty patch of grass, a few piles of boulders the only things to break up the flat earth. Now, the boulders were joined by an oak tree so large that Akira’s arms would not fit around the trunk. The tent was caught in one of the branches, roughly four meters off the ground. Akira blinked at it, but it didn’t go away.

 

“Have you ever grown a tree before?” he asked, brow furrowing. Kindaichi shook his head. “Maybe take the talisman off, until we get this sorted out,” Akira suggested. Kindaichi did so, reluctantly, and stored the little glass pendant carefully in his pocket. He looked considerably less comfortable with it off.

 

“Well, there’s nothing for it,” said Iwaizumi. “We’re gonna have to climb if we want our stuff back.” He slapped Kindaichi on the shoulder and approached the tree with far too much vigor for so early in the morning. Akira sighed loudly and followed him at a more reasonable pace.

 

It took nearly two hours to dislodge the tent from the tree, and to collect the other odds and ends that had ended up in the branches. By the time they were done, the sleepless night began to take its toll on Akira. He slumped against Kageyama, exhausted and dreading the walk ahead of them.

 

 _You didn_ _’t sleep either, did you?_ asked Oikawa. Akira blinked at him. _Well, at least we_ _’re miserable together,_ Oikawa said cheerfully.

 

 _Why couldn_ _’t you sleep?_ Akira hadn’t meant to engage, but curiosity tugged at him regardless of his wishes.

 

 _I don_ _’t very often,_ Oikawa replied. _Most psychics are prone to insomnia._

 

 _Too many nightmares?_ Oikawa smiled joylessly.

 

“Something like that,” he said aloud. Iwaizumi finished passing out the bags and stepped up to the trail with a triumphant grin. Akira dragged himself to his feet, hoping everyone would be too tired for conversation that day.

 

He hoped in vain.

 

 _I_ _’m just curious,_ Oikawa hummed, playing with one of his lights. _You seem like a perfectly intelligent person. Why would someone like you willingly put himself in a position like you have, with Tobio of all people?_

 

 _It can_ _’t be any worse than having you in my head,_ Akira grumbled.

 

_Did he trick you into doing it? Are you being held against your will? Did he brainwash you?_

 

 _If I tell you will you shut up?_ Oikawa turned to nod at Akira. _Fine. I did it because I wanted to get a good night_ _’s sleep. He was having nightmares, and we figured being able to practice would help._

 

_What were the nightmares about?_

 

“I thought you said you would shut up,” Akira snapped. Kindaichi shot him a worried look and Iwaizumi reached back to smack blindly at Oikawa. They kept walking.

 

 _The nightmares were about lots of things_ , Akira said, not sure why he was sharing this, especially with Oikawa of all people. _Some were just sensory overload from all the people in the dorms. Some were memories. Some were fears._ Akira hesitated. _A lot of them lately have been about you,_ he said.

 

 _Me? I_ _’m not a nightmare, I’m a daydream._ Even in a silent conversation, Akira could hear the edge of _something_ unpleasant in Oikawa’s voice. He shook his head.

 

 _You_ _’re his worst memory,_ he said.

 

 _The feeling_ _’s mutual._ Oikawa seemed uninterested in conversation after that, speeding his pace until he was walking next to Iwaizumi instead. Akira reached out for Kageyama’s hand, feeling like a little kid in need of comfort. It really wasn’t so far from the truth.

 

They stopped more frequently as the terrain grew rougher, up the sloping hillside and into a forest. The path grew thinner, more a trail than anything else at this point. Oikawa stumbled here and there, and though Iwaizumi was quick to catch him each time, it was obvious that the long hours of exercise were starting to get to him. They stopped for the final time at the base of the first torii. Akira sat against a tree trunk and breathed deeply the air that felt strangely oppressive.

 

The place felt similar to the other shrine, otherworldly and not quite welcoming. Akira could feel the magic pulsing through the very earth, different from what he had felt before but no less powerful.

 

“Whatever lives here, it’s very old,” Oikawa said softly. He smoothed a palm down the side of the gate, a faraway look on his face. “We’re very much out of our depths here.”

 

“What do you mean by that?” asked Iwaizumi. Oikawa looked at him, and something beyond words passed between them. Iwaizumi nodded.

 

“What?” asked Kindaichi.

 

“There are things in this world more powerful than you or I can imagine,” Oikawa said quietly. “Things and places become sacred for a reason. You’ve felt it, in that leaf in your pocket.”

 

“What the priestess at the other shrine said about lines of fate is true,” Iwaizumi said. “There are the small lines that connect people, and then the larger ones that connect places. Sometimes, these lines intersect and make a collection of magic, like a pool. Or, I guess, a watering hole is probably a better description.”

 

“This shrine is one of those places,” Oikawa murmured. “Whatever it is that’s taken up residence here, be sure to treat it with respect. Or it might just eat us all.”

 

“You’re joking, right?” Kindaichi said nervously. Oikawa only looked at him for a long moment, then stood and shouldered his pack. They started up the temple steps.

 

-*-


	38. Chapter 38

Their new roommate reminded Yuutarou of a kitten. He was already there when Yuutarou managed to drag Kunimi out of bed at ten in the morning, greeting them as soon as they walked through the door with a sharp bow and an “I’M GOSHIKI TSUTOMU YOUR NEW ROOMMATE IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU.” Yuutarou nearly dropped the crate full of plants he was holding.

 

“I’m Kindaichi,” said Yuutarou, stepping behind Kunimi to stop him from walking right back out the door. “This is Kunimi. Nice to meet you.”

 

“You wrote a fire prevention spell, right?” asked Goshiki, watching them like his life depended on the answer.

 

“Yeah,” said Yuutaoru. “How’d you-”

 

“Ushijima-senpai told me,” Goshiki said. He jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “I wrote a spell to scrub magical and mundane pollutants from the air over an entire city.”

 

“Impressive,” droned Kunimi. Goshiki puffed his chest up and beamed. “Have you already claimed a room?” Yuutarou kicked Kunimi in the ankle, but Goshiki didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm on his voice.

 

“I took the first door on the left,” Goshiki said. “There’s one next to it and one at the end of the hall.” Yuutarou thanked him and led Kunimi away. He fumbled the door at the end of the hall open to peek inside and whirled around to look at Kunimi.

 

“I want this one,” he said. Kunimi blinked lazily up at him.

 

“Why, is there a tree?” he asked. Yuutarou nodded and Kunimi snorted. “It better be a damn good tree to make me take the room next to him,” Kunimi said. Yuutaoru backed into the room and stepped aside so that Kunimi could see the branches pressed against one of the windows. He set down his crate and darted over to throw the window open, laughing in delight at the friendly swell of leaves that pressed into the room. His fingertips buzzed with the pulse of magic.

 

“It’s the best tree,” Yuutarou breathed.

 

“You’ve said that about like five other trees,” Kunimi said. Yuutaoru heard him close the door and drop his bags, but he didn’t look up, too busy getting to know the tree. “God, you’re lucky you’re so adorable,” Kunimi said.

 

“What do you mean?” Yuutarou asked, turning around and ignoring how warm the words had made him feel.

 

“I mean that I’m going to take the other room and let you have the nice one on the end, because you look like a puppy who just made a new friend,” Kunimi said. He was leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, a sleepy smile on his face. “And in exchange, I’m going to take a nap in here while you go grocery shopping with the other puppy.”

 

“That’s- fair, I guess,” Yuutaoru said. “But when we get back I’m going to make you unpack your own stuff.”

 

“You’re gonna try,” Kunimi said, already crossing the room and climbing onto Yuutaoru’s bed. “Have fun at the store. Make sure you get extra eggs.”

 

“You got it,” Yuutarou laughed. He left the window open and went in search of Goshiki. “Hey, I was about to go grocery shopping,” he said when he found him fussing with his phone in the living room. “Wanna come with?”

 

“Yes!” shouted Goshiki, shooting to his feet. Yuutarou laughed. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot over the next month.

 

-

 

Kunimi was, unsurprisingly, still asleep when they got back. Yuutarou thought fleetingly of waking him up and putting him to work, but thought better of it when Kunimi hummed in his sleep and curled into a tighter ball. He turned and grabbed a bag to unpack instead.

 

He was just hanging the last of his plants from the window opposite the tree when Kunimi woke, stretching and yawning and being overall far too adorable for Yuutarou to handle. “What time is it?” Kunimi mumbled.

 

“A little after two,” Yuutaoru replied. “You slept through lunch.”

 

“How ever will I survive?” asked Kunimi.

 

“I regret saving you any.” Kunimi snickered, flopping onto his stomach. “Hey, no more sleeping,” Yuutaoru scolded. “You’ve still got your room to set up, and you do have to actually talk to Goshiki today.”

 

“Make me,” hummed Kunimi. Yuutarou lifted Kunimi’s legs by the ankles and crawled onto the bed, dropping them into his lap. He poked at Kunimi’s thigh.

 

“Go unpack,” he said. Kunimi hummed and snuggled deeper into Yuutarou’s pillow. Yuutarou laughed, letting the fresh air and the excitement settle around him like a blanket. “We’re here,” he said.

 

“Yep.”

 

“In the apartment.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“For our internship.”

 

“Yep.”

 

Yuutarou kept it together pretty well, until he snorted and then all at once burst out laughing. He thought he could see Kunimi’s shoulders shaking as well and laughed harder.

 

“What the hell are you so happy about?” Kunimi asked. Yuutaoru could hear the grin he was hiding against the bedding.

 

“I’m excited,” Yuutarou said. “We get to develop our spell, in a professional lab, and market it to producers from all over the country! And I don’t have to stay with my aunt this summer!”

 

“You’re cute.” Yuutarou went still, wrapping a hand around Kunimi’s ankle.

 

“That’s the second time you’ve said that today,” he said softly.

 

“’Cause it’s true.” Yuutarou bit his lip and poked at Kunimi’s calf.

 

“Is not,” he said.

 

Kunimi kicked at him. “Is so.”

 

“Is not.” Another poke.

 

“Is so.” Another kick. Yuutarou launched himself at Kunimi, knocking them both to the floor. Kunimi squawked, rolling over so that he could shove Yuutarou onto his back. They wrestled until Kunimi pinned Yuutarou, staring down at him for a moment before he flopped onto his chest. “You’re comfy,” he muttered. Yuutarou laughed.

 

“You really can sleep anywhere, can’t you,” he said. Kunimi made a quiet noise and nuzzled his head into a more comfortable position against Yuutaoru’s shoulder. Yuutaoru stroked his fingers through Kunimi’s hair. “All right,” he said. “You win. I’ll help you unpack.”

 

“Yay,” mumbled Kunimi. Yuutarou snorted.

 

“You have to get off of me first, you lazy ass,” he said.

 

“Boo,” mumbled Kunimi. Yuutarou shoved him off and sprang to his feet, dancing away before Kunimi could retaliate. He grabbed one of Kunimi’s bags and the white dahlia in its pot and darted next door. He pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his frantic giggling, so that he could hear the way Kunimi grumbled in the next room. He set his load down and crossed the room to throw open Kunimi’s window. “Yours is so much brighter,” Kunimi complained, closing the door behind him.

 

“Yes, but you love me,” Yuutarou said absently. Kunimi didn’t reply, but set his bag on the dresser. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” Yuutaoru asked.

 

“Could you set up my books and stuff?” Kunimi gestured blindly at the bag Yuutarou had dropped by the door. “Organize them however, I just want them on the bookshelf.” Yuutarou scooped up the bag and set to work.

 

There were other things besides books in the bag, keepsakes and trinkets that seemed strange for Kunimi to own. Then he caught sight of the tag on one chachki declaring it a gift from “The Best Senpais in the World” with a crude drawing of an owl and a cat. Yuutarou chuckled and set it on the shelf between a water globe and a key chain shaped like a duck. His fingers slipped on the next book and he caught it by the cover. Something red and delicate fluttered out from between the pages. Yuutarou stooped, equal parts curious and delighted.

 

“How long has that been there?” he whispered, not quite daring to touch it.

 

“What?” Kunimi turned around.

 

“This dahlia,” Yuutarou said. “It fell out of a book and-”

 

“Oh.” Kunimi’s voice was quiet, bordering on reverent, as he stepped slowly over. He lowered himself to his knees to carefully, so carefully, pick up the pressed flower. He held it in the palm of his hand and looked at it for a moment. “I’ve had this for… ten and a half years now,” he said.

 

“It’s beautifully preserved,” Yuutarou noted.

 

“I’ve never taken it out.” Kunimi stared at the flower. “It belongs to a past life.”

 

Yuutarou held the book out, open to the page with the little dahlia-shaped indent, and Kunimi smiled. He slid the flower into place and closed the book, taking it gently from Yuutaoru’s hands.

 

“It must have been precious,” Yuutaoru said.

 

“It was,” Kunimi agreed. He stood and slid the book onto the shelf. “My best friend grew it for me. He was a green mage, like you. Not much confidence in his abilities, but he knew I was upset about something and he spent all afternoon trying to grow that for me.

 

“He sounds like a great guy.” Yuutarou wondered what this best friend had been like. Kunimi had said they’d separated in middle school, but years later he still sounded fond. He wondered what Kunimi had been like as a kid.

 

“He was,” Kunimi whispered. “He was my first friend, you know. He annoyed the shit out of me, but he was there when no one else was. And he genuinely cared.” Kunimi laughed, a humorless little thing. “I had this massive crush on him, too.”

 

“You did?” Yuutaoru asked. His heart sped in his throat and he batted down the jealousy that rose up against some random middle schooler he would never meet. Kunimi nodded.

 

“Yeah. But it was never going to work out. Middle school crushes, you know?”

 

“No,” Yuutarou said softly. “I never really had crushes as a kid.”

 

“No?” Kunimi’s voice was strange. He stared at the book on the shelf. “None at all?”

 

“Nope,” said Yuutarou. “Oikawa-san didn’t believe me at first, kept thinking I just hadn’t met the right person yet. He tried setting me up with so many people, but none of them ever clicked, you know?”

 

“Hmm.” Yuutarou bit his lip, sure he had run his fat mouth off and ruined everything _again._

 

“Anyway,” he said, too quickly, “you said he was your first crush. Who was the second?”

 

“No,” Kunimi said flatly.

 

“Oh, come on,” Yuutarou crowed. “Tell me!”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Tell me!”

 

“No!”

 

“Was it Kageyama?” Yuutarou guessed. Kunimi made a disgusted noise. “Okay, no. Iwaizumi-san?”

 

“He was the third,” Kunimi said.  


“Yeah, I get that,” hummed Yuutarou. “Okay, Oikawa-san? You knew him when you were a kid, right?”

 

“Are you taking this seriously or not?” Kunimi asked.

 

“Okay, okay, I am,” Yuutarou laughed. “Was it… Kuroo?” Kunimi didn’t answer. “Oh my god, it was, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes, Kuroo was my second crush,” Kunimi said. “It wasn’t nearly as big as the first, or as long lasting. I pined for that boy for years.” There was a pause while Kunimi drowned in memories and Yuutarou in jealously. Kunimi turned back to Yuutarou at last with a knowing smile. “But don’t worry. That life is over now. I like this one much better, anyway.”

 

“I’m glad,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi turned back to his dresser and continued putting his clothes away.

 

“Me too.”

 

-

 

That night, Yuutaoru lay awake in his bed, awash in the knowledge that their beds were pushed up against the same thin wall. He pressed his hand gently to the plaster, wondering what Kunimi was thinking about just then. He knew that if he asked aloud, Kunimi would hear. He wondered if he would answer.

 

The next day would be an important one. They would get their first taste of the Yoshikawa Enterprises labs, and learn just what kind of opportunity they would be working with. Yuutarou needed to be well-rested for that.

 

He lay awake for several hours longer, then curled on his side facing the wall and fell into an uneasy sleep.

 

-

 

At the top of the steps was the shrine, stately and old and silent. There were windchimes hanging everywhere in the entry courtyard, but no wind to stir them. It was massive, more of a temple than a mere shrine, large enough to fit Akira’s mother’s apartment building in this courtyard. And in the very center, facing them as though it had been waiting for them, was a small brown fox wearing a collar with a glittering green stone.

 

Oikawa stopped dead at the sight of it and Kindaichi very nearly collided with his back. There was a long moment of absolute stillness, then Akira stepped forward. He bowed low to the fox, feeling a little ridiculous though he didn’t want to take Oikawa’s warning too lightly. “We’ve come to ask the help of the caretaker of this shrine,” he said. “We were sent by the priestess in the shrine by the sea.”

 

Akira stood and the fox straightened, watching him. Then it turned and trotted to the edge of the courtyard, where it looked back at them, waiting.

 

“Well,” said Iwaizumi softly, “it would be rude not to do what it asks.” He looked at each of them in turn, lingering the longest on Oikawa, then stepped up next to Akira. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered, and together they followed the fox to the edge of the courtyard.

 

The shrine was beautiful. The fox led them along a long covered porch with one side open to the forest around them. More windchimes hung from the trees, along with bright lengths of cloth and cloth and several colored glass bottles. There was no breeze to move them. The porch ended in another courtyard, this one with a wide pool of water in its center, an inactive fountain in the shape of a stone fox with a collar set with a silver stone at its far end. The fox that they followed paused to look at the statue before continuing on. Akira glanced at it too, surprised at just how realistic the charcoal-grey statue was. He got the feeling it was watching him and hurried after the others.

 

The fox led them out of the shrine’s back gate, down a path through the forest that wound alongside a stream. There was a cultivated sort of wildness to the land here, like a garden allowed to overgrow its bounds. Here and there, Akira caught sight of lanterns and benches and statues among the foliage, all but lost to the reclamation of nature. Kindaichi looked utterly at peace here. Kageyama looked like he was about to throw up. Akira took his hand and held it tight, but it felt like so very little when it was the most he could do.

 

The stream and the path diverged suddenly, the path leading back upwards, in what Akira thought was the direction of the shrine. He frowned, but followed the fox without a word. The cultivation began to take over the wildness, and all at once they were stepping through the gate of a vegetable garden at the back of the shrine. The fox led them between neat rows of produce and into yet another courtyard.

 

On and on, the fox led them, winding in so many directions that Akira was sure he would never find his way back to the entrance again. He was beginning to feel like this place wasn’t real, like he was walking through a dream. None of the courtyards and hallways and gardens they walked through were alike, but there were too many to belong to a single shrine. The fox led them on a determined path, that much he was sure of. It was taking them somewhere, and Akira could almost guess where that was. But his head was spinning with the sheer amount of magic in the air. He remembered what Oikawa and Iwaizumi had said, about pools of magic and powerful beings that stopped to water there, and he felt very small and very afraid. The fox never sped or slowed, never hesitated in its steps. All Akira or any of the others could do was follow where it led, onward and onward until Akira was sure that they were approaching their destination at last-

 

The path spilled into the entrance courtyard. Oikawa stopped and planted his fists on his hips, clearly about to give the fox a piece of its mind. The main door to the shrine opened, cutting off whatever Oikawa was about to say.

 

“That’s enough toying with these poor boys, sweet,” said a woman standing in the doorway. She was tall and beautiful with golden hair piled elaborately atop her head and a thick gold band around her neck, from which hung a purple stone. She wore the most beautiful robes Akira had ever seen. “You too, angelfish,” said the woman, looking at the gate they had just walked through. The fox that had pretended to be a statue in the second courtyard walked out, padding up to the woman.

 

“You’re no fun, sunshine,” came another voice from off to Akira’s right. He turned to find a slight woman, just as beautiful and as regally dressed, wearing the same green stone around her neck as the fox that had led them through the shrine. She winked at Akira as she walked past them, up to the porch where a third woman stood, taller and darker than the other two.

 

“She’s right, though,” said the third woman. “These boys came to see the caretaker of the shrine.”

 

“The sea witch sent them,” said the small one. “Which means whatever their problem is, it’s too much for our dear little sister to handle.”

 

“It must be very great indeed,” agreed the first woman. “Come in, boys. Tell us what brings you here, and we will see what we can do.” The other two women stepped into the shrine, disappearing into the shadows on the other side of the doorway. The woman gave them a reassuring smile, then turned and followed them.

 

“This is a horrible idea,” whispered Oikawa.

 

“Do you have a better one?” asked Akira. Oikawa shook his head helplessly.

 

Akira took a deep breath. He squeezed Kageyama’s hand tight, then let it go.

 

He stepped through the door.

 

-*-


	39. Chapter 39

Yoshikawa Enterprises was housed in a beautiful, modern building, the kind with massive modern statues in the parking lot filled with small, energy-efficient cars. Yuutarou walked with Goshiki and Kunimi up to the front receptionist’s desk, feeling utterly overwhelmed. He fumbled for Kunimi’s hand, reassured to find it fumbling for his as well. Kunimi gave their names to the receptionist, who looked over her paperwork, bored.

 

“You’re with Yasufumi-san in lab three,” she said, gesturing to Yuutarou and Kunimi. “And you’re in lab five with Okura-san. Take some visitor passes from the rack and follow the signs. There’ll be an information desk in front of each lab.”

 

“Thank you,” squeaked Yuutarou. The receptionist blinked at him and went back to whatever she was doing on her computer.

 

“Come on,” mumbled Kunimi, tugging on Yuutarou’s hand. He followed Kunimi down the hall mutely.

 

They left Goshiki at a fork in the hall, beside a massive wall of windows revealing a beautiful garden courtyard. Kunimi tugged his hand a little more firmly, smirking at the way Yuutarou kept his eyes on the garden until they turned a corner and it was out of sight. Finally, they reached a reception desk under a sign that read LAB THREE: NATURAL DISASTERS. Yuutarou squeezed Kunimi’s hand and they stepped up to the desk together.

 

“Excuse me?” A pretty young man, only a few years older than Yuutarou, jumped at his greeting.

 

“How can I help you?” he asked in a cheery, pleasant voice. Yuutarou liked him immediately, suddenly feeling much better than he had been only a moment before.

 

“My name is Kindaichi Yuutarou, and this is Kunimi Akira. We’re the new interns?” The boy beamed at them.

 

“Yes, I’ve heard all about you,” he gushed. “Okay, I have your id badges here, and some liability paperwork we’ll need you to sign before you can go into the lab. Yasufumi-sensei is very eager to meet you!”

 

Yuutarou listened to him talk as he signed the form he handed him. Kunimi took much longer, actually reading over the paperwork before he did the same. The boy traded the paperwork for a pair of badges and stepped out from behind the desk.

 

“This way,” he said. They followed him through a large set of double doors and into the lab.

 

It was huge; there was no other way to describe it. A massive greenhouse-style dome soared overhead, so large that Yuutarou could not see the other end. It was packed with lab tables cluttered with beakers and test tubes, magical isolation chambers, experiments Yuutarou couldn’t begin to put a name to. He could see the tops of trees on one side of the room, and in the distance he could hear running water. It was a dizzying sight.

 

“Isamu! Brought us some new kids to play with?” A girl wearing a lab coat over a pair of sweats and a baggy t shirt came jogging up, a grin on her face.

 

“These are Kindaichi-kun and Kunimi-kun,” answered the receptionist. “New interns. We’re looking for Yasufumi-sensei.”

 

“She’s in the waterfall zone,” said the girl. “I can take them if you need to get back to your desk.”

 

“Hirota-san, you have work to be doing,” scolded Isamu. “I’ll take them.” Hirota her his head and slumped away, leaving a laughing Isamu to lead the way through the stations.

 

“Seems like a friendly environment,” Yuutarou said, a little nervously.

 

“It is,” Isamu hummed. “Of course, I’ve known Chiyo for ages now, so she and I are a lot closer than most of the people here. But don’t worry! The people here are very welcoming. I’m sure you’ll feel right at home!”

 

They left the rows of tables behind and stepped into what appeared to be a botanical garden of sorts. Isamu led them down a path that sloped away to the right, humming to himself as he walked. Yuutaoru could barely make out people moving among the plants off to his left, tending the garden with a pulse of magic Yuutarou could almost make out the purpose of. He let it go with a mental shrug, stretching his hand up to run his fingers through the leaves of a tree as they passed below.

 

“Nerd,” said Kunimi, fondly.

 

“Takes one to know one,” Yuutarou hummed, too busy touching as many of the plants as he could to come up with a better retort. Kunimi snorted and kept walking.

 

They came at last to an opening in the trees which spilled out onto the edge of an indoor pond. There was a large rock formation on the far end with a waterfall spilling down its side and stirring the pool. A woman stood at the top of the formation, shouting instructions at the lab-coated men below who redirected the stream and the rocks as they were told.

 

“Sensei!” shouted Isamu, trotting up to the shore of the pond. Yasufumi-sensei looked up sharply, her face stretching into a grin when she caught sight of him waving. She leapt off of the rocks, floating gently to the ground, and made her way around its edge to them.

 

“Ogata,” she greeted. “I take it these are the new interns?”

 

Yuutarou bowed shallowly. “I’m Kindaichi Yuutarou, ma’am,” he said, “and this is Kunimi Akira.”

 

“Yasufumi Kazuko. It’s good to finally meet you boys.” She stuck out a hand for each of them to shake, grinning from ear to ear. “You two will be working with me over on that side of the room.”

 

“Do you need anything else before I go back, Sensei?” asked Isamu. Yasufumi-sensei waved him off, still grinning. He laughed, “I’ll leave them in your care then,” and started off with a wave.

 

“He’s a good kid, that Ogata,” said Yasufumi-sensei. “Now, then, why don’t we get you two settled in and see what we’re working with here?” She waved at the men standing near the base of the rocks and started off through the trees. “We’re set up to simulate several types of natural disasters here, but a wildfire is one we hadn’t thought to work with before. When Ito told me what you boys had come up with, I had some of the techs work on a fire warding so that we could work in the arboretum without worrying about upsetting any of the other experiments. Of course, if your spell works as well as people seem to think it does, then that won’t be a problem at all.”

 

They reached the edge of the dome to find that the thick saturation of trees and undergrowth gave way to an open swath of grass. There was a wooden structure set up at one end of the grass, too small to be called anything other than a shack, with lawn chairs and a small pond outside. Two more people in labcoats sat in the chairs, one sipping at a glass of water and the other apparently asleep.

 

“I take it the point is to protect that,” Kunimi said, nodding toward the shack.

 

“Ideally, yes,” said Yasufumi-sensei. “For today, though, we’re going to test it from the shack outwards, toward the rest of the lab. Kuroda will be in charge of the fire-” she pointed to the lab tech with the water, who waved “-and Miyoshi is our sprinkler system.”

 

“You wound me, Sensei,” mumbled Miyoshi, apparently not asleep.

 

“When you provide a more useful service to me, your title will change accordingly,” said Yasufumi-sensei. “Now, I understand you’ve only worked with patches of grass before, so we’re going to start with just that today. That will give me an idea of the shape and nature of the spell, so that I know how we should proceed from here. Let’s say a five-meter radius for now.”

 

“Right now?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi snorted and pulled Yuutarou’s bag from his shoulder, taking them both to drop by the lawn chairs. Yasufumi-sensei took a few steps back and gestured for them to begin.

 

It had been a while since Yuutarou had worked the spell, and now the stakes seemed much higher. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to remember where to begin.

 

Kunimi’s hand slipped into his and a calm sort of surety fell over him. He hooked his magic into the greenery around him and started constructing the basework for the spell. Kunimi came in exactly as Yuutarou finished his part, like members of a well-conducted symphony. Yuutarou opened his eyes to watch the tendrils of his magic move from the sun burning at his core, tying off the very last of the spell’s tapestry. He looked away before he could do something stupid, and watched the spell come to its completion. The magic hung suspended before them like a last wavering note, then as one they let it go. It seeped into the grass in front of them, nearly undetectable. Yuutarou blinked a few times and looked around.

 

Yasufumi-sensei was frowning. “What is it?” asked Yuutarou, all the confidence Kunimi had given him fading away.

 

“How long have you two known each other?” she asked. “Ito said you had just met in January.”

 

“That’s right,” said Yuutarou. “Why, is there a problem?”

 

“No problem,” said Yasufumi-sensei. “It’s extremely uncommon for two magi to be able to combine their magics so seamlessly like you two have, unless they’ve known each other for years. The bond between you two is so strong that I would expect you to be childhood friends, or…” She shook her head. “Regardless, it certainly looked impressive. I’m very interested to see if it works.”

 

Yuutarou and Kunimi followed her over to the shed where Kuroda jumped up to offer her his seat. She glared at Miyoshi until he stood with a heavy sigh and paced over to the pond. Yuutarou gestured for Kunimi to take the empty chair.

 

“Here goes nothing,” muttered Kunimi. Yuutarou nodded, watching as Kuroda strode up to the border of the spell. He rubbed his hands together and sparks flew from his fingertips. One caught in midair, forming a ball of fire that he lowered to the grass. It caught just outside the spell and he coaxed it onward. It faltered, licking vainly at the edges of the spelled grass, and Yuutarou’s heart rose. Then all at once the fire caught and continued its travels. When it had made it all the way across the radius, Kuroda dispersed the fire and stepped up to peer at the grass.

 

“It’s not as burned as the stuff on the outside,” he called.

 

“It didn’t work,” Yuutarou breathed. Yasufumi-sensei stood and clapped him on the back, hard.

 

“I figured something like this would happen,” she told him. She strode over to Kuroda, gesturing for them to follow. “Here, come take a look. The fire had a harder time catching on this grass, and even more getting it to actually burn. The reason it worked better before was because you used the same fire that had created the barrier in the first place. Natural fire will be much better at slipping through cracks than anything a mage can produce.”

 

“So it’s a good start, but it’s not there yet,” Kunimi said.

 

Yasufumi-sensei nodded. “We can work with this,” she said. “I honestly expected no hesitation at all. You two have a solid spell here. We just need to work it so that its weave is tighter against all types of fire, and so that it can be worked with any green mage and any fire mage.” She smiled, wide and toothy. “Congratulations, boys, and welcome to Yoshikawa.”

 

-

 

They didn’t go deep into the shrine, only through the first two rooms and into an open space with a large table and several cushions. The golden-haired woman gestured for all of them to sit and began pouring tea from the waiting pot. Akira settled between Kageyama and Kindaichi, trying to ignore the weight of the three women’s gazes.

 

“So then,” said the dark-haired woman. “What brings you five to us?”

 

For a moment, no one spoke. Kageyama stared at the wall across from them and Kindaichi stared at his hands in his lap and Oikawa and Iwaizumi stared at each other. Akira rolled his eyes. “We’ve come to ask for help,” he said. “My friend here is a very powerful psycho-telekinetic mage, but he went to the priestess by the sea for a way to get rid of his magic. He accidentally transferred it to this one, and we are here to ask your help in putting it back where it belongs.”

 

“An adventure story if ever I heard one,” said the small woman. Her sharp eyes darted between the five of them. “I believe there may be a way. Angel?”

 

“The magic wants to return home,” said the tallest woman. “Can you see it straining along its lines?”

 

“The way to reverse this misadventure is simple,” said the golden woman. “But I think it must be done at the correct time. If they were to attempt it now, the highways would remain shattered and the results would be disastrous.”

 

“The solstice is two weeks away,” murmured the woman with the dark hair. “Surely that would be enough.” The other two nodded. “The ritual is not a difficult one,” she said, turning her eyes on Kunimi. “The magic wishes to return to its master. It just needs to be shown the way.”

 

“It left along the lines of fate that bind people together. It must be drawn back through these lines.”

 

“Each of the people the magic has inhabited must hold it, then pass it on to the next. Three of you have already done this in some smaller way. I believe you would call it practice.”

 

“So we have to enter each other’s psychic landscapes to take it back?” asked Akira. “I have to take it from Kindaichi and then pass it to Kageyama, is that what you’re saying?”

 

“The magic must be passed from heart to heart, yes,” said the dark woman. “You must mend the broken pathways, torn by arrogance and betrayal and heartache. Once this mending is complete, the magic will flow naturally to the next holder.”

 

“They are children,” said the golden-haired woman softly. “We could give them a piece of the tome, to outline the ritual for them.”

 

“If you feel that’s necessary,” said the small woman. “I will find the piece while you escort our guests to the entrance.”

 

The woman stood at once, leaving Akira and the others to scramble to their feet after them. The woman with the golden hair led them out of the shrine while the other two disappeared deeper into it.

 

“I believe I don’t have to tell you that the four of you are bound by fate,” she said. “Remember that those bonds are the paths along which you must draw the magic back. It cannot travel on roads that are destroyed.”

 

“Thank you,” said Akira, bowing. The other two women appeared, one holding a folded piece of paper. She handed it to the golden woman, who handed it to Akira. He opened it to see a spell inked out carefully, little more than a concentration circle. He traced his finger along the lines, pausing at the four points of concentration. There was something there he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t place what it was. He shook his head and folded the page. “We’ll return this after the solstice,” he promised.

 

“You will not be able to,” she laughed. “Once you leave this place, you will not return. But do not fear, you will see us again.”

 

“They don’t understand,” said the small woman, tossing her hair. The dark woman laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

 

“They will,” she soothed. “Now then, boys, you have a long journey back. May we offer you a place to stay for the night?”

 

“Thank you, but we’ll be fine,” said Iwaizumi with a bow. “We have everything we need for a hike.”

 

“In that case, may your path be blessed,” said the golden woman. Akira bowed once more and turned to follow the others out of the shrine. He paused when the reluctance grew too great. A trio of foxes sat in the doorway of the shrine, one brown, one charcoal, and one sun-yellow. Akira blinked and they were gone.

 

“Kunimi-chan, we’re going to leave you behind,” sang Oikawa. Akira took one last look at the shrine and hurried after the others.

 

At the base of the stairs Akira looked over his shoulder again. There was nothing to see but trees where the path turned a corner.

 

“The solstice,” mused Iwaizumi. “So we’ve got two weeks to get through until we can fix this mess.”

 

“I wonder why it has to be the solstice,” Akira said. “The spell they gave me says it has to be done at night, but that’s the shortest night of the year.”

 

“Maybe it’s just for the atmosphere,” Oikawa said. “A sense of urgency and cosmic greatness and all that.”

 

“It’s just a concentration circle,” Akira said with a shrug. “I don’t think the spell itself is all that important.”

 

“Regardless, all we have to do right now is get back to the campsite,” Iwaizumi said. “We can figure the rest out once we’re there.” He clapped Oikawa on the shoulder and started picking his way down the hillside. Akira reached out for a hand to hold, not really caring if it was Kageyama’s or Kindaichi’s. He followed Iwaizumi into the golden afternoon.

 

-*-


	40. Chapter 40

Kunimi had his bangs pinned to the top of his head. They were working in the lab and Yuutarou knew he was supposed to be paying attention, but all he could focus on was the way it made Kunimi’s eyes look bigger and his face younger. He had his tongue caught between his teeth as he worked at the spell in front of him.

 

“Okay, now Kindaichi-kun, let’s see if you can thread your way in there,” said Hirota. Yuutarou jumped, focusing on the spell at last. He could see the opening Kunimi had made for him, exactly big enough for a strand of green magic to weave its way through. Yuutarou fed the spell, humming quietly to himself. It was like a basket, or maybe like a knife, all fire and lightning, waiting for Yuutarou to give it something cool to hold it up. He tied off the ends and let his magic drop, watching as Kunimi and Hirota did the same.

 

“What did we make?” Kunimi asked, looking at the piece of paper they had spelled. Hirota grinned and picked it up. They followed her to a patch of soil not too far away, where she set the paper on the ground and took a quick step back. The paper glowed slightly and sank into the ground. There was a low rumble like distant thunder, then all of a sudden a sprout poked through the earth. The sprout was quickly joined by several others, until a patch of daisies had grown, the same size and shape as the original piece of paper.

 

“That’s amazing!” cried Yuutarou, squatting down to get a better look at the flowers.

 

“I see where the two of you came in,” Kunimi said, his voice doing that adorable, analytical thing again, “with the green magic providing the plants and the storm magic watering them. But what did that spell need a fire mage for?”

 

“To soften the earth,” said Hirota. “The fire magic gets down into the soil and makes it pliable, so that the paper can sink into it. Then the green magic makes the sprouts appear, and the storm magic provides a little underground shower, to speed things up. Instant flowers!”

 

“And that spell works with any three magi,” Kunimi said. “As long as they have the right affinity.”

 

“As long as they have the right affinity,” Hirota agreed. She started walking back through the tables and Yuutarou hurried to follow. “The key to combined magics spells like this one, and the one you two brought in, is compatibility. The paper was a pretty basic spell, so any three magi could have done it. Your spell is much more complicated, so the two who cast it must also have a rapport with one another. An affinity with the magic, and an affinity with one another.”

 

“How close do the magi need to be?” Yuutaoru asked.

 

“Who knows?” Hirota said. She paused at a table where a lab tech was heating a beaker in her hand. “Toma here could probably cast it with Umeda, her best friend, but not Kusumoto, who just started two weeks ago. Question is, how long would Toma need to know Kusumoto before they could cast it?” She clapped Toma on the back and kept walking. “There’s also the problem of dealing with natural fire as opposed to that made by one of the casters. Fire is a tricky element to work with, after all.”

 

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” asked Yuutaoru. Hirota turned around and grinned at them.

 

“Not only do I think we’ll be able to do it,” she said, “I think it’ll be the biggest development in disaster-prevention spells since the earthquake siren.”

 

Kunimi laughed, but Yuutarou could tell he shared some of her optimism. As she started explaining the development process for the plant paper, Yuutarou let himself believe they could do it.

 

-

 

“So how do you know Ushijima-san?” asked Yuutarou as he stirred their dinner on the stove.

 

“We went to high school together,” answered Goshiki, chopping vegetables. “He was the most powerful elemental mage I had ever met, and I swore, to his face, that I was going to beat him someday.”

 

“How’d that go?” droned Kunimi. Goshiki looked up, a blinding grin plastered across his face.

 

“I haven’t done it yet. I will someday. And Ushijima-senpai took me seriously when I said it. He’s not going easy on me.” Goshiki looked down at the vegetables, his smile going softer. “I really appreciate that about him.”

 

“Ushijima-san takes everyone seriously,” Yuutarou said. “Even some random green mage, like me.”

 

“I think that’s because he knows how close you are to Oikawa,” said Kunimi. “He’s trying to butter you up to get closer to him.”

 

“I don’t think so,” said Yuutarou before Goshiki could do much more than give an offended huff. “I think I caught his attention because I was Oikawa-san’s, but I think that’s just the way he treats people.” Yuutarou’s phone buzzed.

 

“He creeps me out,” Kunimi said, reaching over to snatch a bit of carrot off of Goshiki’s cutting board.

 

“Well, you’ve got about five minutes to get out of here, then,” Yuutarou said, setting his phone down. “Oikawa-san says he’s tagging along to dinner.” Kunimi groaned and Goshiki squeaked happily and Yuutarou threw his head back and laughed. He took the cutting board from Goshiki and added the vegetables to the skillet and Goshiki darted off, presumably to make himself presentable. Kunimi slid off the counter and came up behind Yuutaoru, dropping his head against Yuutarou’s shoulder blades.

 

“I don’t want to have a family dinner,” he whined. “It’s bad enough when it’s my family.”

 

“This is your family too,” Yuutarou chided. “As long as Kageyama is involved, so are you.”

 

“Yeah, but I’ve managed to stay out of it so far,” Kunimi said. “And then Oikawa made the connection between the two of us and now my life is a living hell.”

 

“What connection?” Yuutarou asked absently. “And anyway, it’s not that bad. At least there’s fewer people this time. It’ll be quieter.” A tug on Yuutarou’s mind and he was flooded with a stream of happy chatter. “Either escape now or go get the door,” he said, right before the knock came. Kunimi peeled himself away stiffly and shuffled off to answer. Yuutarou listened to Oikawa’s mental and verbal babble as he put the finishing touches on dinner.

 

“So tell us about your internship,” Oikawa said when most of the food had been eaten.

 

“What do you want to know?” Oikawa rolled his eyes.

 

“How’s it going?” he asked. “Are they all super impressed by your spell? Is it tough?” _Were Tobio_ _’s worries founded?_

 

“Well, they’ve got us working in two different labs,” Yuutarou said. “Kunimi and I are in the natural disasters lab, and Goshiki-kun is in another one.” _I haven_ _’t seen or heard anything for him to worry about. Just a bunch of scientists._ “We haven’t had a lot of success getting our spell to work with other casters. Goshiki-kun?”

 

“Oh,” Goshiki said, startling. “It’s. It’s going fine.” He turned red and looked down. “I’m sure yours is much more interesting, though,” he said.

 

Yuutarou wanted to say something, but a sharp look from Oikawa had him changing his mind.

 

“We have two main problems,” Kunimi said, covering Yuutaoru’s momentary floundering. “One is that it seems that the casters have to know each other very well in order for it to work, which is weird since we’ve only known each other a couple of months. The other is that while the spell works perfectly against the caster’s fire, it only slows down another mage’s. We don’t know how it would stand up against natural fire.”

 

“Nature is far less predictable than elemental magic,” said Ushijima. “Perhaps what you require is equal unpredictability.”

 

 _What does that even mean_? groaned Yuutarou.

 

 _Isn_ _’t he deep?_ Sighed Oikawa, batting his eyelashes in Ushijima’s direction. Kageyama kicked him under the table.

 

“We’ll keep that in mind,” promised Kunimi. “Our supervisor seems optimistic, anyway. I guess we’ll just have to see.”

 

-

 

Kunimi was washing the last of the dishes when Yuutarou wandered into the kitchen after seeing the others out. He frowned, leaning against the counter and watching Kunimi scrub.

 

“Kageyama was… quiet,” he said. Kunimi nodded. “Is he okay?”

 

“He’s nervous around new people,” Kunimi said.

 

“That wasn’t what that was. He gets awkward, sure, but that was like he was holding himself back.” Kunimi rinsed the plate and started drying it, leaning against the opposite corner and considering Yuutaoru.

 

“I’m not sure if I should tell you this,” he said

 

“Then don’t.” Yuutarou shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

 

“It’s Goshiki,” Kunimi said quietly. “He went to a… I suppose you could call it a rival high school. He and Kageyama got into a few fights, mostly over Oikawa.”

 

“I don’t remember him,” Yuutarou said. “But I remember Oikawa fighting with Ushijima. And with Kageyama.”

 

“Kageyama tried to defend his honor a few times,” Kunimi said. “I think the whole thing was a miscommunication, two different types of arrogance butting heads. But whatever the reason, the last time Kageyama and Goshiki were in a room together, it ended with two black eyes and a broken nose. Hence the awkward atmosphere today.” Kunimi dried his hands and looked up at Yuutarou, exhaustion dragging his shoulders down. Yuutarou smiled.

 

“Come on,” he said. “Lets get you to bed.”

 

“Don’t wanna,” muttered Kunimi.

 

“Why not?” Kunimi flushed and sighed.

 

“I don’t really want to be alone right now,” he mumbled.

 

“I was just going to draw for a bit,” Yuutarou said. “You’re welcome to hang out in my room.” Kunimi nodded, not meeting Yuutarou’s eye.

 

In many ways, it felt like any other night. Yuutarou turned on a playlist of soft music and pulled out his pencils and sketchbook and set to work like he’d done a thousand times before. But try as he might for some normalcy, everything was different. Because Kunimi Akira was curled up in Yuutarou’s bed, watching him. Yuutarou pretended not to notice, but he was so keyed up that he could tell the exact moment when Kunimi fell asleep. He lowered his sketchbook, looking around a little helplessly.

 

Kunimi slept a lot. It wasn’t a new thing for Yuutarou. Hell, he’d even slept in Yuutarou’s arms, a thousand years ago when Kunimi had come looking for solace and they’d drifted off on the couch. But somehow this felt so much more intimate. Kunimi’s fingers were curled loosely in Yuutarou’s blanket, his hair draped across Yuutarou’s pillow. In the morning, the sheets would smell like him.

 

Yuutarou’s fingers itched to thread their way through Kunimi’s hair. He wanted to climb up into the bed and pull him close, feel the way his breath fanned across Yuutaoru’s collarbone in a deep and even pattern. He wanted to fall asleep to the rhythm of Kunimi’s heart. He wanted to wake up to Kunimi’s sleepy grumpiness, to be lured back to bed by Kunimi asking for just a few more minutes. He wanted, he _wanted_ so bad it ached.

 

He shook his head and picked up a dark, soft pencil, one that was good for bold strokes and soft edges. With tingling fingers he set his sketchbook down and pulled out another, larger one. He turned to a fresh page and forced himself to pause, to look not at Kunimi but at the reality of shapes and values and colors laid out before him. Then he threw that all away. Yuutarou touched his pencil to the page and drew a line around the shape of his longing. He shaded in the ache in his chest and rounded out the form of electricity in his veins every time he and Kunimi touched. He sketched out everything he felt and would never say aloud, and when it was finished he closed the sketchbook, tucked it safely out of sight, and went to sleep on the couch.

 

-

 

Akira had a dream that night, lying in the dark tent beside Kageyama. He stood on the peak of a mountain so tall he could see the entire world spread out at his feet. He saw everything he had, his friends at Aoba Jousai, his mother, Kageyama. He saw himself continuing on in that life, growing up, going to college, getting a job, growing old. He could only see glimpses, flashes of what could be, there for a moment and then gone before Akira could fully understand them. It looked like a good life. A life full of friendship and love. A life with Kageyama by his side.

 

He squinted a little at a particular flash, and all of a sudden it was a memory that simply had not happened yet. He and Kageyama were walking down a path on the Aoba Jousai campus with Kuroo and Tanaka. They were laughing at something, so hard that Akira’s cheeks and sides were aching. Kageyama’s hand was warm and secure in his. Kageyama smiled and Akira smiled back, and there were no words needed. He could feel how happy Kageyama was, and how happy he was that Akira was happy. Akira returned to the mountain with a smile on his face.

 

He turned around and there was another world, filled with everything he had once had. There was his home, and the park with the tree, and everything familiar. There was Kindaichi. He saw himself returning to that life, better able to control his magic. He saw himself entering high school with Kindaichi and Oikawa, growing up part of an inseparable trio. He saw, as plainly as if he were standing there himself, a festival night under fireworks. He held Kindaichi’s hand and watched light explode across the sky. He turned and found Kindaichi watching him.

 

“Beautiful,” Kindaichi whispered, paying no mind to the fireworks or the ocean or the festival or anything other than Akira.

 

“It is,” Akira agreed, paying no mind to anything other than Kindaichi. Kindaichi reached up with his free hand to cup Akira’s cheek and leaned down the few inches between them. Just before their lips could touch, the vision faded and Akira once more stood on the mountain between the worlds.

 

“Choose.”

 

Akira whirled around, coming face to face with himself. The other Akira regarded him with something in his eyes that was old, so very old, and so very tired. He spread his hands, gesturing to the two worlds. “Chose,” he said.

 

“I can’t choose,” Akira said. “I want both.”

 

“You are greedy,” said the other Akira. “Your greed will lead to ruin.”

 

“It won’t.” He wasn’t sure where the certainty was coming from, but he knew without a doubt that he was right. “My greed will save us all,” he said. “There is a third choice.”

 

Another world bloomed at their feet, spanning the space between the other two. There was the tree and the park and the familiar, and there were his friends and his family and everything new. Akira walked between Kageyama, who was holding hands with Oikawa, and Kindaichi, who was holding Akira’s hand. It was spring, and Kindaichi kept trailing his fingers through buds on trees and making them bloom. Oikawa was laughing at him, at something he was thinking, and Kageyama scolded him. Akira knew that whatever the thought had been, it had been about Akira.

 

“That’s what I choose,” he said.

 

“That choice is not yours to make,” said the other Akira. “Those pathways are shattered, and cannot be mended.”

 

“Who’s to say they can’t?” asked Akira. “Who’s to say new ones can’t be made? The future is not certain.”

 

“What you wish for is a folly. It cannot be.”

 

Akira looked at the world for a moment longer, at the future he wanted. There was a way to keep both Kageyama and Kindaichi, to have the two people he loved most. He turned to face the other Akira with fire flashing in his heart and at his fingertips. “It will be,” he said. “I will make it. No matter the cost, that is the world I will chose.”

 

“The choice is not yours,” repeated the other Akira. “There are more souls than one in this mix. If you would have everything you desire, they must align too. And they will not.”

 

Akira opened his mouth to argue, but the mountain rumbled under his feet, cutting him off. He turned to look at his world, only to see the earthquake tearing fissures in it. Akira watched everything he hoped for tear itself asunder.

 

He woke with a start, tears drying on his cheek, and Kageyama’s hand curled loosely in his. He closed his eyes and let himself cry.

 

-

 

By the time they reached the town Akira was too exhausted to do much more than trudge along after Iwaizumi. They reached Kindaichi’s aunt’s house first and shuffled to a stop outside the door.

 

“Do you guys wanna come in for a bit?” Kindaichi asked tiredly. “I could make some tea, and you could rest your legs.”

 

“Yes,” said Oikawa in a rush, already limping toward the door. Iwaizumi watched him with a slight grimace.

 

“You good?” whispered Kageyama as the others filed in. Akira nodded. He couldn’t quite remember why he had been cautious about this place before, and he was too exhausted to think much about it now. He pulled Kageyama into the shop with a yawn.

 

Kindaichi’s aunt’s shop was a wonder to behold, but Akira was too tired to behold much of it. He got an impression of jars and bottles and colorful scraps of cloth and figurines on too many shelves for such a small area, and sea glass windchimes that made him feel like home before he caught sight of the couch. He melted onto it, pulling Kageyama down with him, and between the comfort of the cushions and the warmth of the body tangled with his, he fell fast asleep.

 

-*-


	41. Chapter 41

Yuutarou’s phone buzzed on Friday while he was running copies for Kuroda. He ignored it, not sure that being caught on his phone while he was working would be for the best. It didn’t ring again, so he figured it wasn’t much of an emergency.

 

It wasn’t until he was in his room, idly sketching the bird nesting in the tree outside his window that he remembered to check his phone. The call had been from Oikawa, so Yuutarou hit call and flopped onto his bed. It rang twice before Oikawa picked up.

 

“Kindaichi, thank god, there you are,” gasped Oikawa.

 

“What’s up, Oikawa-san?” asked Yuutarou.

 

“What’s up is that I’m a horrible person who does horrible things to good people and I deserve the absolute worst.” Yuutarou hummed at Oikawa’s answer, rolling onto his side.

 

“And what makes you say that?” he asked.

 

“I’m a horrible person who does horrible things to good people and I deserve the absolute worst, weren’t you paying attention?” Oikawa sighed. “I think I’ve made a horrible mistake, Kindaichi, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

 

“What mistake is that?” Yuutaoru asked. “Is everything okay?”

 

“I should never have dated Tobio,” Oikawa said. “He doesn’t deserve someone like me, he deserves-”

 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Yuutarou gushed loudly. “I thought something was actually wrong.”

 

“Something is actually wrong, Kindaichi!” cried Oikawa.

 

“Well, yeah, you’re talking nonsense again,” Yuutaoru hummed, “but that’s nothing we can’t fix. Do me a favor, and if you’re not already in your flat, get there and stay there? I’m getting on the next train.”

 

“No, Kindaichi, you don’t have to leave your internship just because-”

 

“It’s Friday,” Yuutarou said. “I don’t have work tomorrow, and you need me.”

 

“I’m just being silly,” Oikawa said.

 

“You’re not,” Yuutarou told him, standing to grab his bag and his shoes. “You’re being insecure about things you don’t need to be insecure about, sure. But your feelings are your feelings, and it’s my job as your partner and as your friend to help you through that. Now, are you in your flat?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay. Stay there, and don’t do anything especially stupid in the next twenty minutes. I’ll be right over.” Oikawa answered with a half-hearted hum and a goodbye. Yuutarou hung up the phone and knocked on Kunimi’s door.

 

“Hey, I’m going to visit Oikawa-san,” he said when the door opened and Kunimi appeared. “I might not be back until tomorrow.”

 

“I’ll tell Goshiki when he gets back,” Kunimi promised. “Let me know if you need me to send Kageyama over.”

 

“Will do.” Kunimi smiled at him and for a moment Yuutarou forgot what exactly he was doing. He shook himself mentally and smiled back, turning away before he could get caught up all over again. He made it out of the apartment, down the street, and onto the train back to campus before he cracked. He buried his face in his hands and whined wordlessly as the blue lights of the portal engulfed the train car. He had three and a half minutes to wallow before his stop and he intended to use them.

 

Oikawa was waiting for him at the station. Yuutarou glared at him, but otherwise did not comment on his directions not being followed. Instead, he let Oikawa chatter about things that didn’t matter, listening to him talk himself in circles as they walked back to his flat.

 

“All right,” he said when the door closed behind them. “You go get the face masks and the shitty movie, I’ll get the ice cream and wine.”

 

“How do you always know how to cheer me up?” Oikawa asked. Yuutarou ruffled his hair and shoved him in the direction of the bathroom.

 

“So what’s up with Kageyama?” asked Yuutarou when they were bundled up on the couch, half the bottle of wine and all the ice cream gone.

 

“What’s up with Kunimi?” Oikawa countered.

 

“I asked you first.”

 

“I asked you second.”

 

“Oikawa-san.”

 

“Fine!” Oikawa pouted and looked down at his nearly-empty wine glass. “I just don’t think I’m the right person for him,” he said with a shrug.

 

“Why do you think that?” Oikawa sighed heavily.

 

“Because I’m me? Because I’m petty and dishonest, and a neurotic mess. He deserves someone stable, like Ushiwaka.” Yuutarou nodded.

 

“Is this because you think you’re not good enough for him, or because you think Ushijima-san is better?” he asked.

 

“Both,” Oikawa answered. “I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Right now, nothing,” Yuutarou said.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Right now, you’re too caught up in your own head. You’re not thinking straight.” Yuutarou downed the rest of his wine and set his glass on the coffee table, settling his legs in Oikawa’s lap. “In the morning, you’re going to talk to Kageyama about this, let him know about all these little insecurities, and then listen to what he has to say.”

 

“He’s just going to say that I’m being ridiculous,” Oikawa whined.

 

“That’s because you’re being ridiculous,” Yuutarou said. “Look, Kageyama loves you. We spent eight months figuring that out, remember? He wouldn’t still be with you, after all that and after all this time if he didn’t genuinely want to be.”

 

“No one wants to be with me,” Oikawa said. He smiled at Yuutarou. “I know,” he murmured before Yuutarou could speak. “I know that’s not true. It’s just what’s in my head.”

 

“I know,” Yuutarou said. “But that’s why I’m here. To remind you that what’s in your head is dumb.”

 

“Thanks.” There was a quiet moment where they both sat under the weight of Oikawa’s thoughts. Then Oikawa straightened a bit and curled a hand around Yuutaoru’s ankle. “So,” he said. “Kunimi-chan.” Yuutarou groaned. “Tell me,” Oikawa goaded.

 

“Remember when I said it was ‘just a crush’ and that I would ‘literally never fall so low’?” he asked.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I was wrong,” Yuutaoru said. “So very wrong. I’m entirely screwed. Help me?” Oikawa threw his head back and laughed.

 

“Oh, Kindaichi,” he said. “I’m so proud. I always knew this day would come.”

 

“Yes, yes, you were right, you told me so,” Yuutarou droned. “Now, any help you’ve got to offer would be greatly appreciated.”

 

Oikawa hummed thoughtfully. “I assume you plan on telling him how you feel,” he said.

 

“Let’s not be crazy,” Yuutarou muttered.

 

“Kindaichi, you have to tell him,” Oikawa said. “If for no other reason than he deserves to know.”

 

“I seem to recall giving you similar advice,” Yuutarou said.

 

“And look how well it worked out for me,” Oikawa said.

 

“Yeah, you’re wallowing over how you don’t believe you’re worthy of either of your boyfriends.” Oikawa pointed accusingly at Yuutarou.

 

“One, Ushiwaka is not my boyfriend. Yet. It’s a work in progress.” He jabbed two fingers in Yuutarou’s direction. “Two, this is a fleeting insecurity. I know it, you know it, Iwa-chan knows it. I’m only like this because of my cocktail of issues with myself, and that has no bearing on your chances of happiness whatsoever.”

 

“Is there a three?” Yuutaoru droned.

 

“Three,” snarled Oikawa, poking Yuutarou in the ribs with three of his fingers, “You’re a brat. And four, I guarantee you Kunimi feels the same way you do. But he’ll never say anything first, so it’s up to you. But if you don’t say anything, then he’s going to spend the rest of his life thinking you don’t like him back, and he doesn’t deserve that any more than you do.”

 

“Oikawa-san, he doesn’t like me back,” Yuutarou said. “Why would he?”

 

“Oh, Kindaichi,” Oikawa crooned. “Do I need to tell you all the reasons you’re wonderful? I can do that, if you need. I can even put it in song form.”

 

“Oh god, please don’t.”

 

“Why, don’t you want to hear my beautiful singing?” Oikawa pouted.

 

“No, I’d like to keep my eardrums intact, thank you.” Oikawa sniffed derisively, but his lips were twitching the way they did when he was trying to hold back a smile. Yuutarou poked him in the side with his toe. “I’m serious, though,” he said. “What makes you think Kunimi likes me back? Did he say anything to you?”

 

“He didn’t have to,” Oikawa snorted. “I can see it all over his face whenever he talks to you. The way his aura lights up whenever you come into the room. The way he blushes whenever Tobio teases him about you. He likes you, Kindaichi, a lot.”

 

Yuutarou tried to see it. He tried to think back to conversations he’d had with Kunimi in the past. He tried to imagine the same kind of affection like a crushing weight tugging at Kunimi’s chest, the same kind of warmth flooding his cheeks at the thought of Yuutarou, the same kind of giddiness at the thought of making Yuutarou smile. He couldn’t manage it.

 

“I don’t see it,” Yuutarou whispered. Oikawa smiled.

 

“Of course you don’t. You’re like me. You never see how much people adore you, only how much you adore them. You’ve always been that way. So,” he said, leaning over and refilling both their wine glasses, “we’re going to work at this from a new angle. Instead of trying to see how badly Kunimi-chan has it for you, you’re going to tell me all the things you like about Kunimi-chan. And you’re not going to leave out any details, no matter how embarrassing, because I’m just going to find them in your head eventually.”

 

“Oikawa-san, I don’t want to do-”

 

“I don’t care,” Oikawa interrupted. “We’ve talked about my love life for years. Now it’s _finally_ your turn. So spill. What do you like most about Kunimi-chan?”

 

“What do you even get out of this?” Yuutaoru huffed.

 

“Validation and a sense of accomplishment over having finally pried my way into every corner of your personal affairs,” Oikawa said. “Now go.”

 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Yuutarou admitted. “There’s so much.”

 

“Okay, what was the first thing you noticed about him?” Oikawa asked.

 

“Probably… his eyes,” Yuutaoru said. “The way they’re so big and blue and pretty, but when I first met him it was like looking at a steel door, like a safe, you know? Like, there was no way I was ever prying his secrets out of them.” He smiled. “They don’t look like that anymore.”

 

“What do they look like?” Oikawa asked.

 

“Like an ocean,” Yuutaoru said, blushing at how cliche that was. “Like the entire universe? There’s so much there that I feel like I could get lost every time I look at him.”

 

“What else?” Yuutarou thought for a moment before he laughed softly.

 

“I like his attitude,” he said. “I like the way he doesn’t take any shit from anyone. I like watching him snark and be lazy and how he’s so utterly unapologetic about all of it.”

 

“He’s a little shit,” Oikawa agreed fondly.

 

“I like…” Yuutaoru hesitated. But if he couldn’t say this to Oikawa, he couldn’t say it to anyone. And Oikawa would find out anyway. “I love the way he loves me,” he said at last. “He didn’t have to be my friend. He could’ve just moved on after our project was over, but he chose to stay. He _chose_ to be close to me, to laugh with me, to do this internship with me. He chose me, and I’m so grateful for that.”

 

Oikawa was quiet for a moment, staring at the wine in Yuutarou’s glass rather than at Yuutarou himself. He took a deep breath and looked Yuutarou in the eye at last. “You need to tell him,” he said. “You need to tell him exactly what you just told me. Because even if it’s just friendship, Kunimi’s the kind of person who needs to hear that more often. Especially from someone he adores as much as he does you.”

 

“Okay,” Yuutaoru said slowly. “I will.”

 

“Good.” Oikawa looked down, and didn’t say anything else for a very long time.

 

-

 

Akira woke to the sound of Kindaichi talking. He was warm under the weight of Kageyama sprawled across his chest and a soft blanket thrown over the both of them. He could hear seaglass windchimes and the low murmuring of voices that suddenly became sharp.

 

“I don’t want your kind in my shop,” said a woman’s voice. “This shop exists to help people protect themselves from people like you.”

 

“There’s no need to be rude like that, Aunt Kumiko,” said Kindaichi.

 

“Yuutarou, stay out of this,” snapped the aunt. Akira shook Kageyama quietly awake.

 

“These are my friends,” Kindaichi argued. “They haven’t done anything to you.”

 

“We need to go,” Akira whispered. “Meet me at the cafe next door.” Kageyama nodded and crept out of the shop. Akira took a breath and stood, padding into the next room to face Kindaichi’s aunt. She looked much like her shop, a tall woman wearing what appeared to be an entire thrift store’s worth of clothing and jewelery. Her long black hair was braided down her back with beads and feathers and she was barefoot. There was normally a glassy quality to both her eyes and her voice, but today both of them were sharp. She looked up when he came in and smiled. She was missing several teeth.

 

“Kunimi-kun,” she said warmly. “It’s so good to see you. Give me a moment to get this scum out of my shop and I’ll make some tea so we can catch up, okay?”

 

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible Kindaichi-san,” Akira said. “If you’re kicking them out because Oikawa-san is a psychic, then you’ll have to kick me out too. I formed a partnership with a psychic, after all.”

 

“Kunimi-kun,” she said, as though he had broken her very heart. “I thought you were smarter than that. To think that you’d become a dog-”

 

“I’d thank you not to use that word,” Oikawa said. “If you want us gone, we’ll go. This is your shop, after all. But there is no need to be vulgar.”

 

Kindaichi’s aunt opened her mouth, probably to spew some more vitriol at them, but Kindaichi cut her off by standing. He walked out of the room, leaving her to stare after him in shock.

 

“Excuse us,” said Akira with a bow. He gestured for Oikawa and Iwaizumi to go out before him, then followed without a word.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kindaichi said once they were all seated in the cafe next door. “I should’ve remembered before I suggested we go there.”

 

“It’s not your fault your aunt’s a bigoted bitch,” said Oikawa cheerfully. Iwaizumi smacked him. “Anyway, it’s a good thing we didn’t tell her you’re a psychic right now too. Though I don’t know how you’re going to keep that a secret from her until the solstice.”

 

“Maybe it would be better if you stayed with one of us,” Akira said. “So we can keep an eye on you, and so your aunt doesn’t get suspicious.”

 

“You can pass it off as being mad at her over what she said,” Iwaizumi added.

 

“I am mad at her for what she said,” Kindaichi muttered. Akira heard the self-loathing in his voice, and he knew exactly where it was coming from.

 

“Hey, you’re not the same,” he said, laying a hand on Kindaichi’s arm. “And just because you had some prejudices in the past doesn’t mean you still have them. People change.” Kindaichi nodded, but didn’t say anything. Akira bit back a sigh and said, “Anyway, I promised my mom I’d call her when we got back. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone?”

 

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Iwaizumi promised. Akira thanked him and left the cafe.

 

“So I take it you’re in one piece?” his mother said as soon as she picked up the phone. He snorted.

 

“More or less,” he replied. “The camping trip is over, but I don’t think anything else is. There’s this big party on the solstice, and I think I’m going to be stuck with Kindaichi until then.”

 

“Stuck with your best friend, what a tragedy,” she droned. There was a pause, and Akira could almost feel her worry ramp up. “Akira, whatever it is you aren’t telling me, is it dangerous?”

 

He bit his lip. If he lied to her, she wouldn’t push; she never did. It was why he so rarely lied to her. But if he told the truth, she might do something like come out there and try to fix things, and he couldn’t risk putting her in danger too. He also couldn’t risk the phenomenal amount of trouble they would all get into if the school or the authorities found out what they had been up to.

 

“It’s only dangerous if we do it wrong,” he said at last. “I don’t think it’s anything we can’t handle though.”

 

“Okay,” she said. “I trust you. But you know I’m here for you, right?”

 

“I know,” he said. “Maybe when this is over I’ll tell you about it.”

 

“Statute of limitations on grounding doesn’t go away just because you’re in a boarding school, you know,” she warned. He smiled.

 

“I’ll tell you when I’m thirty then,” he said.

 

“It’s a deal.” Akira smiled.

 

“Tell me about something boring,” he said.

 

“You know my neighbor, the one with the Pomeranian?” she asked. “Apparently he got caught stealing vegetables from the communal garden on the roof and now the lady who lives on his other side has vowed revenge.” Akira listened to her detail the brewing feud in her apartment building, pretending it was okay to snatch just this little bit of normality. He let the peace of her voice wash over him and forgot just for a moment about psychics and partnerships and solstices and just let himself be.

 

-*-


	42. Chapter 42

Yuutarou came back to the apartment the next evening to find it infested. There was a pile of shoes next to the door and a cacophony of voices coming from the living room. Yuutarou took a deep breath before entering.

 

“Kindaichi!” cried Bokuto, throwing his arms up in the air. “You’re here! What are you doing here?”

 

“I live here,” Yuutarou said. “What are all of you doing here?”

 

“They wanted to see the new apartment for themselves,” Kunimi said in a voice that desperately asked for help. Bokuto and Lev both nodded earnestly while Kuroo grinned at Yuutarou like a cat that had cornered its prey. Sugawara smacked him and smiled at Yuutarou.

 

“We expected you to still be with Oikawa,” said Sugawara. “Sorry for intruding.”

 

“You aren’t sorry at all,” Yuutarou said.

 

“You’re learning,” laughed Sugawara.

 

“They want dinner,” Kunimi said. “I don’t want to feed them, but if you do, it might get them out of our hair faster.”

 

“I think I can arrange some dinner,” Yuutarou said. “If they leave grocery money.” He watched as Kuroo and Bokuto started digging in their pockets, Sugawara glaring at Lev until they did the same. Yuutarou rolled his eyes and wandered into the kitchen. He pulled out a skillet and some vegetables and started on a stir fry that would hopefully feed them all enough to keep them quiet.

 

He wasn’t surprised when Bokuto and Kuroo followed him into the kitchen. Bokuto, at least, grabbed a knife and a cutting board and started helping. Kuroo just leaned against the counter and grinned at Yuutarou.

 

“What.” Yuutarou said without looking up at him.

 

“What.” Kuroo repeated.

 

“Bro,” warned Bokuto. Kuroo shrugged, relaxing against the counter top.

 

“We wanted to talk to you,” he said. “About Kunimi.”

 

“If you’re here to threaten me, you’re like third or fourth in line,” Yuutarou said. “Also unnecessary. I’d have to have Kunimi’s heart in order to break it.” Even to him, the words were beginning to feel hollow.

 

“We just wanted to tell you a story,” Kuroo said. Bokuto huffed, but continued chopping.

 

“What story?” asked Yuutarou.

 

“Don’t interrupt, Kuroo scolded. “Anyway. You see, Kunimi had a crush on one of his friends once before. Like, a major crush, not a little schoolboy one like the one he had on me.”

 

“That was adorable,” Bokuto commented.

 

“That was. This was not,” Kuroo said. “This was as close to real love as someone that young can get. That boy was Kunimi’s very best friend, and he had it bad for him.”

 

“He told me about him,” Yuutarou said.

 

“Did he tell you what happened? Kuroo asked.

 

“He said it faded. Middle school crushes usually do.” Kuroo shook his head.

 

“Something happened and he had to leave his best friend behind,” Kuroo said. “When he came to Aoba Josai, it was this big thing. He cut all ties and never looked back.”

 

“He told me that too,” Yuutarou said.

 

“He never looked back, _until-_ ” Kuroo held up a finger for emphasis, “-one day he ran into this friend again. About six months after the fire, they met again and spent quite a bit of time together. And Kunimi, of course, still had it bad for this guy. He decided to tell the kid how he felt, and hope that they could still at least be best friends after that. He figured their friendship was strong enough that he could ask for that at least.”

 

“What happened?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“The kid split,” Kuroo answered. “He skipped town and never contacted Kunimi again. It broke Kunimi’s heart.”

 

“If it hadn’t been for Kageyama, he never would’ve made it through that,” Bokuto said. “He tried to act like everything was normal, but we all saw through that.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Yuutarou asked.

 

Kuroo grinned. “Because we like you, Kindaichi. We like you and we want to see you succeed, in all your endeavors, but especially those of the heart. And because we like Kunimi.”

 

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Bokuto said. He finished chopping his pile of vegetables and turned a surprisingly sharp gaze on Yuutarou. “Especially Kunimi. He deserves to make this choice for himself, not have it made for him.”

 

“Whatever you’re trying to tell me, just say it,” Yuutarou sighed. He poured the ingredients into a skillet and turned up the heat. For a moment, there was no sound but the sizzling of the food and the anxious beating of Yuutarou’s heart.

 

“You should tell Kunimi how you feel,” Kuroo said.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kuroo-san,” said Yuutarou stiffly. Kuroo snorted.

 

“It’s okay,” said Bokuto. “Everyone knows, but it’s okay. We all think you two make a good match.”

 

“Well I’m glad you think that,” Yuutarou grumbled. “There’s just one problem.”

 

“And what is that?” asked Kuroo.

 

“Kunimi doesn’t feel the same way.” Kuroo and Bokuto exchanged a look loaded with disbelief. Yuutarou sighed. “I don’t know why nobody seems to get that,” he said. “I like him, sure, but he doesn’t like me the same way. We’re just friends.”

 

“I’ve seen Kunimi being just friends with people,” Kuroo said softly. “This isn’t that.”

 

“The only person he’s closer with than you is Kageyama, and there’s a very good reason for that,” Bokuto said.

 

“So we’re close friends,” Yuutarou said. “I still don’t see how-”

 

“Kindaichi,” Kuroo interrupted. “Kunimi likes you back. Okay, take it from someone who’s known him since he was twelve, the kid is completely gone for you.”

 

“Kuroo-san, please don’t be mean,” Yuutarou mumbled.

 

“You’re the one being mean,” Kuroo said. “To Kunimi.”

 

“How on earth am I being mean to him?” Yuutarou cried. They all fell silent for a moment, waiting for the conversation in the living room to return to normal. Kuroo shook his head, sighing heavily through his nose.

 

“You’re making a choice for him,” he said. “You’re deliberately withholding information that could change his life, because you’ve decided he doesn’t need to have it. Do I really have to tell you what’s so wrong about that?”

 

“And suppose I do tell him,” Yuutarou snapped. “Suppose I pour my heart out and tell him exactly how I feel. Then what happens? What happens after he rejects me? I still have to live with him in this apartment for the rest of the month, Kuroo-san. I still have to develop this spell with him. I can’t do that if I ruin our friendship with this, which is exactly what would happen.”

 

“Why are you so convinced it’s going to go that way?” Bokuto asked.

 

“Look at me!” Yuutarou said, spreading his arms. “I’m not exactly exciting. I’m not powerful like him, or like Kageyama or Oikawa-san or any of you who went to Aoba Jousai with him. I’m just… me. Why would anyone want to be with someone like that?”

 

“Man, he wasn’t kidding,” Bokuto said.

 

“Who wasn’t kidding about what?” asked Yuutarou. He stirred the skillet sedately and gestured for Kuroo to start getting plates out of the cabinet.

 

“Kunimi wasn’t kidding,” Kuroo said, holding out the first plate. “When he said you were self-deprecating and didn’t see how amazing you are.”

 

“Is it self-deprecation if it’s true?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“Nope,” said Bokuto. “That’s why that’s exactly what this is. Now, take our advice and tell Kunimi how you feel okay?” He took a pair of plates and walked them out to the living room with a grin. Kuroo ruffled Yuutarou’s hair and followed with two more plates. Yuutarou took a deep breath. He stared at the remaining two plates, wishing one of them would magically give him the answers. When neither one did, he scooped them both up and took them into the living room. It didn’t escape his notice that it was Kunimi’s plate that he carried. He didn’t have the energy to glare at Bokuto about it.

 

They left when dinner was over, taking all the noise with them. Goshiki was apparently dealing with some family business that weekend, so there was no one in the apartment but Kunimi and Yuutarou. It felt strange, almost oppressive as Yuutarou gathered up the dishes.

 

“I’ll wash those,” Kunimi said. “You’re the one who made us dinner, you shouldn’t have to.”

 

“I’ll let you,” Yuutarou said. He followed Kunimi into the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter to watch him wash. He grabbed a towel, ignoring Kunimi’s glare, and dried what was already rinsed.

 

“So what did Kuroo and Bokuto want with you?” Kunimi asked. “I would say I hope they didn’t bug you too much, but they’re them so there’s not much chance of that.”

 

Yuutarou thought over his words carefully. However he answered, he had a feeling Kunimi would derive more from the words than Yuutarou intended. If he wasn’t careful, Kunimi would see right through him. “They wanted to harass me about this… guy,” he said at last.

 

“A guy?” Kunimi prompted, his voice and expression both neutral.

 

“Yeah,” Yuutarou said. “They found out I have a crush on someone, and they wanted to meddle.”

 

“…I know,” Kunimi said. Yuutarou’s heart plummeted to somewhere around his knees.

 

“You do?” he breathed.

 

“Kageyama told me,” Kunimi said. “Or well, he told me he thought you had a crush on someone, and I figured out the rest. If you’re worried about my approval, don’t be.”

 

“Kunimi, I- what?”

 

“My approval,” Kunimi said. “For dating Kageyama.”

 

Yuutarou stared at him, uncomprehending. “Dating Kageyama?” he asked.

 

“Yeah.” Kunimi looked at him, brows furrowing. “Did I not get it right?”

 

Yuutarou laughed. “No,” he wheezed. “God, I do not have a crush on Kageyama.”

 

“Oh. I thought…”

 

“Don’t worry,” Yuutarou said. “You’re not the only one. I’m still constantly having to tell Hinata off for the same assumption.”

 

“So you don’t have a crush on Kageyama?” Kunimi asked. He handed Yuutaoru the last of the plates and picked up the skillet. There was something urgent in his movements.

 

“No.” For a moment, Yuutaoru’s heart fluttered with something resembling hope. He shoved it down and told himself to really think this through. Kunimi looked happy to hear that, but all of a sudden his face fell into uncertainty, and then blankness.

 

“Then, who do you have a crush on?” he asked. Yuutarou resisted the urge to bite his lip and refuse to answer.

 

“On… an old friend,” he lied. It wasn’t what he had meant to say. He had meant to tell Kunimi the truth, to lay himself bare and hope for the best. But at the last moment, he had seen everything that could go wrong if he did confess, and he was terrified.

 

“Oh.” Kunimi scrubbed at the skillet a little more aggressively than was probably necessary. “I see.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Yuutarou sighed. “It’s not like he’ll ever feel the same way about me.”

 

“What makes you say that?” Kunimi asked. Yuutarou chuckled humorlessly.

 

“Because he’s brilliant,” Yuutarou said. “He’s every star in the sky. And I’m just me.” Kunimi put the skillet down and turned the water off. He turned to look at Yuutarou with a fearsome expression on his face.

 

“Don’t you ever say that about yourself again,” he said.

 

“Kunimi?”

 

“I’m serious,” Kunimi growled. “I don’t like it when people put my friends down. You are an amazing person with an amazing personality who anyone would be lucky to be with. And the sooner you get that through your thick skull the better.” He grew quiet, wrapping his arms around himself as though he were cold. He dropped Yuutaoru’s gaze and stared at the floor. “You deserve the world, Kindaichi. And you deserve someone who can give it to you.”

 

“I- thank you,” Yuutarou said, utterly bewildered. Kunimi nodded and turned away, not once looking at Yuutarou.

 

Yuutarou picked up the skillet and the dish towel, still completely at a loss.

 

-

 

Akira sat under a clump of trees, watching Iwaizumi and Oikawa play beach volleyball. He was pretty sure they weren’t playing it right, and that there needed to be more factors, like other people and a net, but they were having fun and Akira supposed that was what mattered. Iwaizumi had said something about the exercise being good for Oikawa, both physically and psychically, an explanation Akira had waved off lazily. It just looked like a lot of effort to him.

 

“Oh, look, Tobio-chan’s here,” said Oikawa. He caught the ball and turned around. Akira looked up to find that sure enough, Kageyama was making his way across the sand to him. “Now we have four people.”

 

“Do not make them do something they don’t want to do, Trashykawa,” said Iwaizumi.

 

“They want to play,” said Oikawa confidently. “They just don’t know it yet.”

 

“Play what?” asked Kageyama. Oikawa’s grin turned sharp.

 

“Beach volleyball,” he said. “You and Iwa-chan against me and Kunimi-chan.”

 

“Why.” Oikawa pouted.

 

“Because it’s fun,” he said. “And because it’s good exercise. It goes too fast to really predict what someone is going to do unless you’re really in tune with them. I know Iwa-chan really well, but you’d be good practice.”

 

“Pass,” said Akira. He’d seen how much effort Iwaizumi put into each spike, and how hard Oikawa worked to pick launch the ball into the air each time. It looked like more exercise than he was willing to go through.

 

“It sounds like fun,” Kageyama said quietly. Akira looked up at him in surprise. It wasn’t often that Kageyama took interest in something, and to have that something be a game that Oikawa of all people suggested…

 

“Fine,” Akira groaned, dragging himself to his feet. “How do we play?”

 

Oikawa explained the rules and some basic strategies and then it was him and Akira on one side of a stretch of sand, facing down Kageyama and Iwaizumi on the other. Iwaizumi had drawn a line in the sand to mark the net and Oikawa eyed the space beyond it hungrily. He spun the ball between his fingertips and grinned at Akira.

 

 _Bet I can slam it down in one,_ he thought. Akira raised his eyebrows in challenge.

 

“Oi, stop flirting and get on with it!” Iwaizumi yelled. Oikawa grinned and took a step back.

 

Watching Oikawa serve was an amazing experience. He launched himself into the air like a bird taking flight, the ball sailing in a beautiful arc right in front of him. He slammed his palm into the ball, and the next second there was a crater in the sand on the other side of the line.

 

“That’s one point for us,” Oikawa cheered. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and jogged after the ball. He tossed it at Oikawa.

 

“Next one won’t go so easy,” he promised. Oikawa grinned and served again. Iwaizumi picked this one up, launching it into the air over Kageyama’s head. Kageyama jumped and spiked a little clumsily, but still with enough force that Akira couldn’t get to it in time. Oikawa tossed the ball to Iwaizumi.

 

It was… fun. Akira would never admit it out loud, but he was genuinely having fun playing with them. So much fun that he didn’t notice Kindaichi arriving until a particularly impressive spike from Iwaizumi was met with applause.

 

“That’s amazing,” Kindaichi called. Iwaizumi waved him over.

 

“Wanna play?” he asked, handing Kindaichi the ball.

 

“Oh, no I don’t want to make any of you stop,” Kindaichi said, but he held the ball like it was something precious.

 

“I wouldn’t mind a break,” Akira said. “You can have my spot.” Kindaichi looked like he wanted to argue, but he closed his mouth.

 

“Thanks,” he said, and there was so much happiness in his expression that Akira had to look away. He shuffled back over to his trio of trees and sat with his back against one, watching.

 

Kindaichi was clumsy. He was slow and he hadn’t grown into his limbs yet. He was nowhere near as good as Kageyama, though Akira knew this was the first time playing for both of them. But he was smiling so very wide and laughing so very loud and Akira’s heart was so very, very full. This was his best friend, after all. It made him ache to see Kindaichi so happy. It was something Akira didn’t know if he would ever have the privilege of seeing again.

 

He held it together through the entire game. He cheered quietly for both sides, laughing when Kindaichi did something especially clumsy, staring in awe when he did something impressive. He did everything exactly as he should. And then when he and Kageyama walked back to Kageyama’s parents’ apartment, he held himself together all the way through the front door. He ascertained that neither of Kageyama’s parents were home, and then he collapsed against the door and slid until he was sitting with his back to it.

 

“I can’t do this,” he whispered. Kageyama sat next to him and took his hand.

 

“Can’t do what?” he asked.

 

“I can’t be his friend,” Akira said. “I can’t pretend everything’s normal when I’m just going to leave as soon as the solstice is over.”

 

“So don’t,” sighed Kageyama, sounding very tired.

 

“I want to,” Akira said.   


“So do.” Akira shook his head.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

 

“I know,” Kageyama whispered, squeezing his hand. “You know my opinion on all this. There’s no reason why you can’t still be his friend when this is all over.”

 

“Maybe you’re right,” Akira said quietly. He didn’t quite believe it, and he knew Kageyama knew that. “I had a dream,” he said suddenly. “Where I could choose, between Kindaichi and you. I said I wanted both and the whole world fell apart.”

 

“It was just a dream,” Kageyama said.

 

“I know.” There were tears prickling at the corners of Akira’s eyes. “I know, but it still scared me.”

 

“It’s okay to be scared,” said Kageyama. “It’s scary stuff. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get through it. You’re stronger than you realize.”

 

“When did you become the wise one?” Akira sniffled.

 

“When you took a vacation to emotions land,” Kageyama answered. Despite himself, Akira laughed. Then the first tear rolled down his cheek and the next thing he knew he was sobbing. “It’s going to be okay,” Kageyama said as he wrapped an arm around Akira’s shoulders and pulled him close. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

-*-


	43. Chapter 43

The spell was getting faster. Yuutarou wasn’t sure if it was because he and Kunimi were so familiar with each other or if it was due to Yasufumi-sensei’s adjustments, but it took less than half the time to cast now as it had when they had first developed it. But no matter how fast it was to cast, it still wasn’t a functional spell. Kuroda’s fire still broke through it with little more than a hesitation at its boundaries. Yuutarou couldn’t help but feel as though the universe was against them.

 

“You’re being dramatic,” Kunimi said, picking through his fries to find the crunchiest ones. Yuutarou groaned from where he was slumped in his chair. “We’ve been working with Yoshikawa for a week. We’ve got time.”

 

“Not much of it,” Yuutarou said. “We’ve only got three weeks left. Who knows if thats enough to get it to work? And what happens if we never do?”

 

“Then we move on,” Kunimi said. “It’s one spell. If it works, that’s great, but if it doesn’t then it’s not the end of the world.”

 

“I want it to,” Yuutarou mumbled. Kunimi glanced at him with something that wasn’t quite a smile.

 

“I want it to, too,” he admitted. “Is that ridiculous or what?”

 

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” Yuutarou said. “It’s not wrong to want things.”

 

“Sometimes I feel like I want too much,” Kunimi said, like he was admitting some great secret. “I already have everything.”

 

Yuutarou looked at him, at his soft hair falling into his big blue eyes, at his pale skin and his smooth features. “I know the feeling,” he said. It was everything he could do not to reach across the table and lace his fingers with Kunimi’s. He scrambled for a change in topic. “So, is it just me, or does Yasufumi-sensei seem really familiar?”

 

“We’ve known her for a week now,” Kunimi pointed out. Yuutarou shook his head.

 

“No, I mean, like we had met her before all this. Like, years ago or something.” Kunimi shook his head.

 

“I don’t know,” he said, pulling out his phone. The color drained from his cheeks as he read the screen. “I have to go.”

 

“Kunimi?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi shook his head, stuffing his phone in his pocket and standing.

 

“I have to go right now. I’ll text you later.” Yuutarou watched him shoulder his bag and go without another word. He tried not to let it get to him.

 

The apartment was empty when Yuutarou shuffled through the door, but he hadn’t expected any different. Goshiki had mentioned going out with some old friends from high school that weekend, so Yuutarou didn’t expect him back until Sunday. The apartment felt strangely large without him there, though. Outside, a gathering summer storm was turning the sky to silver and platinum, bright and cheerful. Yuutarou tried to feel the same, but something dragged at him, weighing down the corners of his soul like dragging already soggy boots through a patch of mud.

 

He walked into the kitchen on autopilot, but he had just eaten at the restaurant with Kunimi. There was nothing in the fridge that he could want or need, but he opened it and stared at its contents anyway. After a moment he let it close again and walked away.

 

His bedroom was a riot of green, which was exactly how he liked it. Normally, each plant felt like a friend welcoming him home from wherever he had journeyed, warm and familiar. Now they felt cold and distant. Even the tree outside his window, which had always been a happy, playful presence, just felt like a tree. Yuutarou flopped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

 

He knew what was happening. He knew what he was supposed to do for it. He had been down this road before, more times than he could count. Before Hinata and Tsukishima, Yuutarou hadn’t really had any friends. He had been that weird kid who talked too much and liked plants too much, and therefore no one had really wanted anything to do with him. His childhood had been so empty that he could barely even remember it some days. Even after Hinata and Tsukishima, after Yamaguchi and Yachi and even Oikawa, he had been prone to bouts of severe loneliness. His fingers twitched toward his phone, but he couldn’t find the energy to fish it out of his pocket.

 

No one wanted to hear from him, anyway. Yuutarou had always been everyone’s convenient friend, he knew. His love ran deep and he was deeply loved in return, but only because he was such an up person. People didn’t like dealing with other people’s downs, especially when they were as dumb and self-inflicted as Yuutarou’s.

 

As if it knew he was thinking about it, the phone rang. In the time it took him to move his arm enough to reach it, it rang out. He held it in his hand by his side without checking who it had been. It rang again.

 

“Hello?” A chuckle answered him.

 

“My Kindaichi senses were buzzing,” hummed Oikawa. “Are we being a sad shallot today?”

 

“Oikawa-san?”

 

“Because I can’t come get you unless it’s a genuine emergency, but I have two of your little friends here trying to find you and a third pretending he doesn’t care.” Yuutarou sat up.

 

“Oikawa-san, what are you talking about?” he asked.

 

“Sweet little Yacchan was worried about you, and she and the shrimp dragged Glasses into the cafe to track you down,” Oikawa said. “Why didn’t you tell any of them where your new apartment was?”

 

“It never came up,” said Yuutarou with a shrug. “You can tell them I’m fine, though.”

 

“That’s what Yacchan said you’d say,” said Oikawa. “That’s why I’m sending them to you. If you’re not presentable already, make yourself such because they’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

 

“No, Oikawa-san, really,” argued Yuutarou, but all he got in response was the sound of the call cutting off. He flopped onto his back with a groan. Company, especially company including Hinata, meant cooking, and he really didn’t have the energy for that. He didn’t really have the energy to get himself out of bed, either, but he spent the next fifteen minutes willing himself to do it anyway. He was just slumping into the living room when there came a flurry of knocks at the door.

 

“I told Oikawa-san to tell you you didn’t have to come,” he said, opening it to an orange-haired battering ram throwing himself into Yuutaoru’s arms. Yamaguchi had accompanied the other three, and he shepherded Yachi and Tsukishima into the apartment.

 

“We ignored you,” he said, toeing off his shoes. “I already ordered pizza, so it should be here any minute. We’re eating junk food and watching movies tonight.”

 

“I mean it,” Yuutarou said. “You guys don’t have to interrupt your weekends for-”

 

“For what, Kindaichi?” snapped Tsukishima. “It’s not like you’re some big inconvenience to us.”

 

“Kei means that we’re your friends,” said Hinata, climbing off of Yuutarou at last. “If you need us, we’ll come. You would do the same for any of us.”

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“But nothing,” said Yamaguchi. “Now go change out of those slacks, they look like death. Put on some sweats or whatever and get your butt back out here in two minutes or I’m coming in after you.” He grabbed Yuutarou by the shoulders and steered him toward the hall. Yuutaoru stumbled into his bedroom, bewildered but not ungrateful. He changed as he had been told and paused for a moment at his bedroom door. He had friends outside, friends who were there because he needed them, but he still didn’t feel any lighter. Four people who loved him had filed into his apartment, but he still felt lonely. He took a deep breath, slapped a smile on his face, and marched out to face them.

 

He could get through this with no one’s feelings hurt, if he played his cards just right.

 

-

 

“I’m worried about him.”

 

“I know you are, but you have to give him time to come to this on his own.”

 

“I don’t want to let him come to it on his own, I want him to be happy now, damn it.”

 

“Aw, Kei, you do have a heart.”

 

“If you tell anyone, I will rip yours out and feed it to you.”

 

Yuutarou’s dreams had grown thin and he shifted in his sleep. The voices fell silent and someone started stroking his hair. He sighed and settled.

 

“He’s hurting himself.”

 

“Sometimes people do. And we just have to let them. It’s the only way he’ll learn.”

 

The voices sounded sad. Yuutaoru wished he could take their sadness away, but he had a feeling that trying would only make it worse. He had a tendency to do that lately. The voices switched to other conversation topics and Yuutarou drifted back to sleep, carried to oblivion on the familiar comfort of their sound.

 

-

 

The next time Yuutarou woke was to the sound of the door closing and someone sighing. Thin morning light was coming through the window, streaming onto Yuutarou’s face. He blinked several times, groaning and rolling over on the couch.

 

“You awake?” asked Kunimi, so quietly that Yuutarou almost didn’t hear him. He gave up on trying to find a position that was both comfortable and not in the path of the sun and sat up. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” mumbled Yuutarou. “Everything okay?”

 

“Not really,” said Kunimi. “Kageyama had a panic attack and he broke some things. It’s never fun talking him down after one like that.”

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi smiled.

 

“Why do you always worry about everyone else except yourself?” he asked. Yuutarou blinked dumbly at him. “I just saw Hinata and the others out. Yamaguchi told me what happened last night.”

 

“What happened last night was that four interlopers invaded our apartment and kept me up far past my bedtime,” said Yuutarou, exaggerating his pout in a vain hope that Kunimi would leave it alone. Kunimi shook his head and sat on the couch near Yuutarou’s feet.

 

“If that’s what you say,” he murmured. “But do me a favor? If it ever happens again and I’m _not_ busy with Kageyama, talk to me? You’re not a burden, Kindaichi, in any sense of the word.”

 

“Sure I am,” yawned Yuutarou. “You just don’t realize it yet.”

 

“I think it’s up to me to decide what is and isn’t a burden to me, hm?” Whatever point Kunimi was trying to make was probably important, but Yuutarou had been up past two in the morning and Kunimi was smiling sweetly at him in the pale light of dawn and really nothing else mattered. Yuutarou nodded and Kunimi seemed amused, but pacified. Yuutarou thought that he would do anything at all to see that smile again and again. “Go get some sleep,” he said. “In your bed, not this shitty couch.”

 

“Have you slept?” Yuutaoru asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Nap with me?” Kunimi smiled.

 

“I’d love to,” he said. He stood off the couch and held his hands out for Yuutarou to take. Yuutarou let Kunimi pull him to his feet and down the hall to Yuutaoru’s bedroom. He fell asleep on top of the covers with Kunimi sun-warm and wonderful in his arms.

 

-

 

Despite his unwillingness to ever set foot anywhere near Kindaichi’s aunt again, Akira found himself lazing around the shop. Kageyama had gone for a run early in the morning, and had come home just long enough to tell Akira he was going out with Oikawa. It had left Akira with a choice between lonely boredom and boredom with someone else. He had made the obvious choice.

 

“What even is half this stuff?” Akira asked. Hanging above him was a mobile of what looked like animal bones and bits of colored glass. He had a feeling it was watching him.

 

“I don’t know, but at least half of it is cursed and the other half doesn’t work,” Kindaichi replied. “There’s some cool books here, though. If I hadn’t run into you, I had been planning on working my way through _101 Kooky Potions for the Cottage Witch_ and seeing if any of them did anything fun.”

 

“Sounds riveting,” Akira said. “One problem though. You’re shit at potions.”

 

“That’s what makes it fun,” Kindaichi said, laughter tinting his voice. Akira found himself smiling.

 

“Do you know what any of them do?” he asked.

 

“One’s supposed to turn your nose purple,” Kindaichi said.

 

“ _Why?_ ”

 

“I didn’t look too deep into the motivations,” Kindaichi laughed. Akira stretched out in that laugh like a cat in a patch of sunlight.

 

“Let’s do it,” he said.

 

“What?”

 

“Let’s brew the potion. What could possibly go wrong?” Kindaichi snorted.

 

“A lot of things,” he said. He kept talking, but Akira wasn’t listening. His own words were bouncing around his head. What could possibly go wrong, indeed. He had forgotten, in the warmth of Kindaichi’s company, why he had ripped himself away in the first place. He had forgotten that he was a monster.

 

“I have to go,” he said, sitting up. Kindaichi frowned at him from behind the counter.

 

“Kunimi, what happened?” he asked. “One minute everything was fine, and now you want to leave?”

 

“Have to,” Akira corrected. “Not want. I don’t want to leave you, Kindaichi.”

 

“So don’t.”

 

“Kindaichi-”

 

“Or do,” Kindaichi interrupted. “But I need you to make a choice. If you’re just putting up with me until the solstice and then leaving again, tell me so I can prepare myself. But if you want to be friends and pick up where we left off, then stop acting like I’m going to break every time you so much as smile at me.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Akira said.

 

“Of course it isn’t,” Kindaichi grumbled. “Nothing ever is with you.”

 

“This isn’t easy for me either!” Akira snapped.

 

“Isn’t it? Because it seems to me that you can just walk in and out as you please! I’m the one who’s stuck waiting for your whims to swing back my way every day.” Akira had never heard Kindaichi sound so bitter. He hated that tone on him, hated it even more because he knew he was the one who put it there. He took a deep breath.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

 

“No, you’re not,” Kindaichi snarled.

 

“You have no idea how sorry I am,” Akira cried. “I’m sorry I can’t do it. I’m sorry I have to leave, and I’m sorry I haven’t left already.”

 

“If you’re so sorry about it, then why don’t you do something about it?” Kindaichi yelled. “Instead of just dragging me around by the nose, why don’t you make up your mind already?”

 

“Because I don’t want to!” Akira said. “I don’t want to choose to leave you, but it’s the choice that has to be made.”

 

“No it isn’t! You know it isn’t! There’s another way!” Akira’s dream flashed into the forefront of his mind and he shook his head.

 

“I can’t be selfish this time,” he said. “I can’t have everything I want. It would ruin the two people I love most.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Kindaichi said. “You’re not a precog, you’re a fire mage. You don’t know the future.”

 

“No, but I know you,” Akira said quietly. “And I know Kageyama, and most importantly I know me. Staying would be the worst choice I could make, for any of us. So let me do what I have to do.”

 

“Do it, then,” Kindaichi said. He sounded tired, defeated. Akira found he hated that tone even more than the bitterness. “Just don’t make me live halfway between, Kunimi. I can’t do that, even for you.”

 

The bells over the door jangled and Oikawa walked in, Iwaizumi and Kageyama trailing behind him. Akira watched Oikawa take in the situation in the space of a single heartbeat, but he didn’t wait to see what he would do with the mess. He stood and shouldered his way out the door, too angry and heartbroken to look back and see if anyone followed him.

 

He was halfway to the beach when his pursuer caught up with him. It was not who he expected.

 

“Whatever happened back there, it made that kid cry,” Iwaizumi said.

 

“It’ll make me cry later,” Akira admitted. Iwaizumi nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets, falling into step beside Akira. He was silent. “What, no lecture?”

 

“One, I’m only two years older than you. I don’t think I’m qualified to lecture on your life choices,” Iwaizumi said. “Two, I’d have to know what happened first, and something tells me it’s none of my business.”

 

“I broke my best friend’s heart,” Akira said. “And then I showed up again and started poking at the wound. I won’t stay and help it heal, and I won’t go and let it close up on its own. I just keep showing up and making it worse.”

 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” Iwaizumi said, like he was agreeing. Akira stared at him for a long moment. He started laughing.

 

“It is,” he said. “It’s a fucked up situation all around.” Iwaizumi threw an arm around his shoulders.

 

“Come on, fuck-up,” he said. “I’ll buy you some ice cream and you can tell me all the ways you’ve ruined everything.”

 

-*-


	44. Chapter 44

Yuutarou woke with a heavy warmth in his arms. He opened his eyes slowly, sure that if he woke too quickly then the dream would be lost and he would be alone. But even after he stared at the wall for several moments, Kunimi was still warm and pliant in his arms, his head tucked under Yuutarou’s chin like it belonged there. Yuutarou let himself pretend for a moment that it did.

 

He imagined waking up with Kunimi like this all the time. He was an early riser by nature and Kunimi was a night owl, so it would likely always be Yuutarou waking up first. He would spend as long as he liked just watching Kunimi’s sleeping face, admiring how soft he seemed while he dreamed. His lashes were as dark and thick as his hair, curling delicately against his cheeks while his eyelids fluttered with whatever world had stolen him away for the night. There was nothing to do on this imaginary day, so Yuutarou let Kunimi sleep as long as he liked. Then Kunimi would wake and-

 

And smile at Yuutarou. This was Yuutarou’s fantasy, after all, so Kunimi would be as much in love with Yuutarou as Yuutarou was with Kunimi. He would smile, and his cheeks would turn pink with more than sleep-flush and magical fire. He wouldn’t say anything, just smile and take in Yuutarou the same way Yuutarou had been drowning in him. And then he would lean up, and he would kiss Yuutarou.

 

That was where the fantasy ended, because that was where Yuutarou forced it to end. Guilt washed over him, cold and sticky. He felt suddenly awkward with Kunimi in his arms, sure that somehow when he woke, he would know what Yuutaoru had been daydreaming about. If he knew, he would hate Yuutarou for certain. Anything more than the lines he had already crossed would be too much.

 

Yuutarou carefully pulled his arms from around Kunimi. He untangled Kunimi’s fingers from his shirt, biting his lip to keep from outright swooning at the sweetness of the gesture while his heart beat double time from the concept of touching Kunimi’s hand. It was getting ridiculous. Finally extricated from Kunimi, Yuutarou rolled over and went to sit up.

 

“Kindaichi?” mumbled the sweetest voice in the world. Yuutarou froze at the sound of it, looking back over his shoulder.

 

That had been a mistake. Kunimi was smiling up at him, just like he had in Yuutarou’s fantasy. Just like he had in a thousand fantasies that Yuutarou hadn’t even allowed himself to acknowledge. Just like he had early that morning when he had promised Yuutarou that he wasn’t a burden, that he was wanted and cherished and maybe Yuutarou was remembering too much because there was no way Kunimi had ever smiled at him like this before.

 

Like all he ever wanted to see was Yuutaoru smiling back at him.

 

“Sorry,” Yuutarou stammered. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I…” He trailed off, entranced by the sleepy way Kunimi blinked up at him. He turned away abruptly. “What time is it?” he asked, scrabbling around on the nightstand for his phone.

 

“Time for more napping,” Kunimi hummed. Yuutarou couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“It’s past eleven,” he said. “The day’s half gone.”

 

“Maybe for you, you freak,” Kunimi said. “The rest of us have normal schedules and would like to keep them.”

 

“You sleep if you want to,” Yuutarou said. “I’m going to go… do something.”

 

“Have fun.” From the sound of his voice, Kunimi was already mostly asleep. Yuutarou chanced a look back at him, and then immediately wished he hadn’t. He looked so sweet, half-smiling and mostly asleep in Yuutarou’s bed. Yuutarou wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him again and waste the day. Which was exactly why he knew he had to go, before he did something stupid. He stood up and hustled out of the room, refusing to look back.

 

He found Goshiki in the living room, hovering two inches off the ground with a petulant look on his face.

 

“Uh…” said Yuutarou intelligently. Goshiki shook his head.

 

“A senpai wanted to try out a new spell he’d designed,” Goshiki said. “We aren’t sure when it will wear off.”

 

“It didn’t occur to you to say no?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“Would you say no to your senpai?” Goshiki returned.

 

“Depends on the senpai, I guess,” Yuutarou admitted. “But the only one I respect enough to do that isn’t magical, so…” he shrugged.

 

“You have a non-magical senpai?” Goshiki sounded like the very thought was gibberish to him.

 

“Yeah, Iwaizumi-san,” said Yuutarou. “He’s Oikawa-san’s best friend.”

 

“Oh. I’ve heard of him.” Goshiki didn’t sound impressed. Yuutarou considered fighting him on it, but he decided it wasn’t worth the effort. He dropped onto the couch with a sigh.

 

“So how did your first week go?” he asked idly. Goshiki tried to sit on the couch, but ended up floating a few inches above it. He scowled.

 

“It’s going all right,” he said. “We’re having trouble getting the range to broaden, but Okura-sensei is hopeful that we’ll get there sometime next week. How’s yours?”

 

“It works when Kunimi throws fire at it, but not when other people do,” Yuutaoru sighed. “Other than that, it’s a perfect spell. It just won’t do what it’s supposed to.”

 

“That doesn’t sound perfect at all,” Goshiki said. Yuutarou glared at him. “I mean, it sounds like you have a better challenge than I do. Other than the range, mine works perfectly. It can cover a small park or so with no problem. The rest is just boring tweaking. You, on the other hand, get to actually rewrite your spell still. That’s the fun part.”

 

“If you say so,” Yuutarou said.

 

“No, it is,” Goshiki insisted. “You get to be the star during that part. Everything is what you think of, what you can do. After that, other people get their hands in it and you’re out of the spotlight. Someone else gets the breakthrough, someone else gets the glory. So you gotta make sure you get the breakthrough, huh?”

 

“Oh, we will,” Yuutarou assured him, though he didn’t feel so certain himself. Something about Goshiki made him want to be confident, made him want to try something impossible. “In fact, I bet we can get our fire problem solved before you can fix your size problem.”

 

“You’re on,” cried Goshiki. “Just don’t cry to me when you lose!” There was a small popping sound and Goshiki bounced onto the couch. “ _Finally_.”

 

“How long were you like that?” Yuutaoru laughed.

 

“Seven hours,” Goshiki replied. “He cast it on me while I was asleep.” Yuutarou couldn’t help it. He threw his head back and laughed. “Its’ not funny!” Goshiki cried. “Shut up, or you’ll wake your boyfriend up!”

 

Yuutarou fell abruptly silent. “Kunimi isn’t my boyfriend,” he said quietly.

 

“Oh. I thought-” Goshiki’s brow furrowed. “Why isn’t he?”

 

“Why would he be?” Yuutarou replied.

 

“I just figured… I mean, you’re always together,” Goshiki said.

 

“No we’re not,” Yuutarou said, slightly baffled.

 

“No, really, you are. You’re together way more than normal friends. You’re always in each other’s rooms, or hanging around each other out here. And you act like you’re together.”

 

“How so?” Now, Yuutaoru was getting amused. To think that Goshiki could think that Kunimi was acting like his boyfriend was laughable to say the least.

 

“Like, the way you’re always, I don’t know.” Goshiki held his hands in fists in front of his face and bumped them together. “Orbiting each other. And you laugh like couples do. Plus the way you look at each other. It just really seemed like you were one. So?”

 

“So what?”

 

Goshiki huffed through his nose. “Why isn’t he your boyfriend?”

 

“Because he doesn’t want to be,” Yuutarou said with a shrug. “Would you?”

 

“I think you’re selling yourself pretty short.” Yuutarou chuckled.

 

“Yeah, that’s a common complaint,” he said.

 

“You love him, though, don’t you?” It wasn’t phrased like a question, but rather like Goshiki knew exactly what he was going to say. Even though Yuutarou had no idea himself.

 

“I-” There was a stirring down the hall and all the blood in Yuutarou’s body rushed to his face. He made a frantic shushing motion at Goshiki, who only looked at him blankly.

 

Kunimi came shuffling into the living room, wrapped up in Yuutarou’s blanket and yawning. His hair was a mess and his face was pink and Yuutarou’s heart was beating too quickly in his chest. Kunimi flopped onto the couch between them and dropped his head onto Yuutarou’s shoulder.

 

“You two are too loud,” he whined. “The bed’s too cold.”

 

“I don’t believe you on either front,” Yuutarou said. “You’re a fire mage, you’re never cold.”

 

“Whatever,” muttered Kunimi, nuzzling closer. He sighed in contentment and closed his eyes. “Are we watching movies? Because that’s about all I can stay awake for.”

 

Goshiki reached for the remote while Yuutarou shifted into a more comfortable position, this time with Kunimi sprawled halfway across his lap. Goshiki shot him a significant look to which Yuutaoru rolled his eyes and said “Five hundred yen says he’s asleep before the opening credits are over.”

 

“I’m not taking that bet,” Goshiki said, and started a movie that Yuutarou had not intention of paying attention to.

 

He was too busy trying to sort out his screaming, scrambling thoughts. It was difficult to do with Kunimi stretched so sweet and warm against him and Goshiki pretending not to notice their existence.

 

Goshiki’s question echoed in his mind. Did he love Kunimi? Sure, he liked him, and as a friend he cherished him as much as he did any of his other friends, but did he _love_ him? Was this more than a fleeting - albeit deep - crush that would be gone in a year’s time?

 

He tried to picture his feelings for Kunimi as a plant. It was a daydream he’d had more than once. Friendship, like what he shared with Hinata and Tsukishima and the others, was a patch of wildflowers. His family were bushes, shrubs bearing different flowers based on their personalities and relationships with Yuutarou. His mother was gardenias. Oikawa was a massive rosebush, thorny and beautiful and impossible to get rid of. Yuutarou didn’t have a relationship more complex or more important to him.

 

He’d always pictured love as a great, sturdy tree. It would tower above all the other plants and make Yuutaoru feel safe in its shade. But the more he thought of Kunimi, the more he thought that didn’t fit him at all. Kunimi wasn’t a tree, but he also wasn’t flowers or a bush or any other green life Yuutarou could imagine.

 

Kunimi was the sun. As soon as Yuutarou thought it, he tried to take it back. The sun was too much for one person to be, the very life force of the entire garden. It was what made all the flowers grow happy and bright. It was what made the gardener’s life colorful. Kunimi couldn’t be the sun, because if he was then Yuutaoru was doomed. If he lost Kunimi, he would lose everything, and none of the others in his life would ever be able to make that better.

 

But maybe that was okay. Maybe he didn’t need anyone else who could be what Kunimi was to him. Maybe it was okay that Kunimi played a different role than anyone else in his life. It didn’t mean he loved his garden any less, it just meant he had a new love in the sun.

 

As that thought washed over him, the illusion broke and Yuutarou couldn’t see the garden anymore. All he could see was Kunimi, smiling at him. Kunimi, with his damned eyeliner and his silky black hair and every time they had made Yuutarou’s heart skip a beat.

 

Maybe Yuutarou did love him, and maybe he didn’t. Either way, he was going to going to give Kunimi everything he could, until he had nothing left to give.

 

-

 

“You know, when I first met him, I wanted nothing to do with him,” Akira said, after he had finished telling Iwaizumi everything. They sat at the ice cream parlor, empty dishes stacked between them. A cool breeze was blowing some of the summer heat away, tinted with the sound of tourists and the smell of sea salt. It was a beautiful day, too beautiful to be telling stories like the one Akira had just told Iwaizumi. “Sometimes I wish he had gotten the hint and just left me alone. We both would’ve been saved a lot of pain that way.”

 

“Maybe,” Iwaizumi said. “Or maybe you would’ve both ended up worse for wear. You can’t know what could have been.”

 

“But if we had never become friends, none of this would have happened,” Akira insisted.

 

“It might not have,” Iwaizumi agreed. “Or maybe, this was always meant to happen. The priestess said that the four of you are bound by strings of fate. Something tells me you would’ve ended up here one way or another.”

 

“So what, I was always destined to ruin my best friend’s life?” Akira said. “Great.”

 

“That’s not what I said,” Iwaizumi said. “I only meant that maybe there’s a reason you two became friends in the first place. Maybe this is something greater than just you, or even just the four of you. It’s not all your fault, so stop thinking it’s up to you to fix it all.”

 

“If I don’t, who will?” Akira muttered.

 

“You’re selling the rest of us pretty short there,” Iwaizumi said. “We’re all just as capable of helping fix this mess as you are.”

 

“None of us is capable of fixing this mess,” Akira muttered.

 

“You may be right about that,” said Iwaizumi. “Doesn’t mean we won’t try, though.”

 

“I didn’t mean for you to get tangled up in this,” Akira said. “I was supposed to fix everything by leaving Kindaichi behind. Not drag him, and you and Oikawa-san, into something this messed up.”

 

“None of this was your fault,” Iwaizumi said. “I’m not even convinced it’s Kageyama’s fault. But you stepped up and took responsibility anyway, and that says a lot about you, Kunimi. Now let the rest of us show the same backbone you have.”

 

“I never want to see him again.” Akira wasn’t sure why he said it, but it felt right coming out of his mouth. He was angry, he realized. Angry at Kindaichi, but also angry at himself. He wanted nothing more than to take Kageyama and leave the others to their fate.

 

Except that Iwaizumi was right. Their fates were tied together, and as long as Kindaichi had Kageyama’s magic, he would have to see him again. At least on the solstice, when they set this whole matter to rights. There would be no avoiding Kindaichi on that day, but until then…

 

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a bad idea,” said Iwaizumi.

 

“What makes you say that?” Akira asked. Iwaizumi sighed, stretching his arms above his head.

 

“I may not know you all that well, but I think I’ve got a pretty good grasp on who you are,” Iwaizumi said. “You’re like Oikawa. You’re going to do the right thing, but you’re going to make it as convenient for you as possible. Only you don’t see that what you’re doing is actually going to end up hurting you in the long run. It seems convenient now, but give it a year or two and you’ll end up with nothing but regrets.”

 

“What would _you_ do then?” Akira snapped. “If you knew being around Oikawa-san would only end up with him hurt, or even dead? You wouldn’t stay either.”

 

“If I was planning to leave him like you are,” Iwaizumi said, “I would spend as much time with my best friend as I possibly could. Before I lost him forever.”

 

“Even if you ran the risk of ruining everything by staying?” Akira asked.

 

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Iwaizumi asked softly, like he already knew. Akira let the silence speak for him. “Look, he’s your friend. If you’re really never going to see him again, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying what little time you have left. But Kindaichi is right. You can’t lead him around by the nose like you have been. You need to be honest with him. Completely honest.”

 

“I will,” Akira said, and he knew that Iwaizumi saw through the lie. Iwaizumi regarded him for a moment, then shrugged.

 

“It’s your life,” he said. “I’ve got no place to tell you how to live it. Just make sure you don’t regret whatever choice you make in the end.”

 

Akira left him at the parlor, texting Oikawa and some of his friends about meeting up later that day. Akira pulled out his own phone as he walked back to Kageyama’s parents’ apartment, scrolling through old texts. He pulled up a group chat with all of his friends from Aoba Jousai on it and couldn’t help but smile as he read through the messages he had been ignoring the last few days.

 

He hadn’t been quite happy without Kindaichi, but he had been working his way in that direction. He had friends, people he would almost call family. People who loved him and made him smile. Maybe Iwaizumi was right and maybe he would regret the choice he was making now, but Akira couldn’t help but think otherwise. He nodded firmly to himself and slid the phone back into his pocket as he stepped into the Kageyamas’ apartment. The solstice would come and Akira would face down whatever fate had in mind for him when it did. But in the meantime, he had summer homework to do, and a new best friend to drag into doing it with him. He went to the guest room to grab his things, then dragged them out into the living room and set up shop at the coffee table. There was a lot of work to do.

 

-*-


	45. Chapter 45

Yuutarou wrestled the grass into submission, forcing it open to take Kunimi’s magic into itself. Kunimi started weaving his magic in, but it was too slow, too dull. Nothing like what it had looked like when they first started this spell and everything had been new and wonderful. Now it was routine, was a chore. Yuutarou didn’t bother looking at the core of Kunimi’s magic as they pulled out of the spell. He had been working hard to keep himself out of trouble lately, and the first step to that would be to stop staring quite so much. Kunimi was distracting, and Yuutaoru couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not when they both had so much at stake with this spell. He kept his eyes forward on the fading glow of the spell until it was gone entirely. Kuroda stepped forward and Yuutarou and Kunimi stepped back to give him room to work.

 

The fire barely even hesitated before skipping over the spell’s boundary and devouring the grass beyond. Yuutarou tried to look at the spell again, to see where they had gone wrong, but there were no traces of it left in the earth before him. He clutched at the back of his neck in frustration and watched as Miyoshi and Kuroda put out the fire without a word. It was the third failed attempt that day.

 

“Kindaichi-kun, can you come here a moment?” Yasufumi-sensei was standing at the edge of the artificial forest, several paces away from the test site with Kunimi by her side. Yuutarou nodded and shuffled over, readying himself for the scolding that was sure to come. “I want you two to know that this is a very good sign.”

 

“Sensei?” asked Kunimi, blinking at her with all the surprise Yuutaoru felt mirrored on his face. She smiled and spread her arms.

 

“Failures happen! Mistakes happen! It’s part of the development process, and frankly I was starting to worry about how well your spell was doing.”

 

“I thought it was doing pretty poorly,” Yuutarou said. Yasufumi-sensei shook her head.

 

“Spells like the ones in books and the ones that are taught in schools don’t come from places like here,” she said. “This is a stepping stone, a middle ground between the wild creativity of the first inception and the rigidity and rules of the final product. Yoshikawa Enterprises exists to help get from point a to point b, but we aren’t here for perfection. Your spell is remarkable, but I think that may be simply because the two of you are remarkable.”

 

“How so?” asked Kunimi. She smiled and spread her arms.

 

“Yoshikawa Enterprises is a family,” she said. “Ask any of the techs here about any of the others and they’ll be able to tell you everything from their cat’s name to their mother’s birthday. We know each other here, and know each other well. The two of you, however, are something beyond that.

 

“The level of connection between you two is that of brothers, or childhood friends. Not two people who met each other less than a year ago. That is why your spell developed so quickly, and why it has been so perfect up until today. This is the sort of spell that relies on the bonds between the casters. Your bond is more important than either of you realizes, and you both realize quite a bit.”

 

“I don’t understand what this has to do with anything,” said Kunimi, and if Yuutaoru didn’t know better he would say he sounded defensive. Yasufumi-sensei smiled at him, unimpressed.

 

“You are taking one element and infusing it with its natural enemy,” she said. “Fire and grass do not play nicely. But with your spell, thanks to the bond between the casters, the grass can trust the fire enough to let it in. In exchange, the fire then protects the grass from any other fire. You two represent the spell itself, trust and protection. Without your friendship, the spell would be impossible.”

 

“So the spell’s useless,” Kunimi said. When Yuutarou looked at him, he shrugged. “If it can only be cast by people with this bond, it won’t be much help in the real world, will it?”

 

“Oh, it will eventually,” said Yasufumi-sensei, flapping a hand as though to bat Kunimi’s words away. “But that’s a problem for someone else. Your job is to make sure you can cast it in such a way that Kuroda’s fire doesn’t get through it.”

 

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Kunimi snapped. “We’ve been trying for over a week and he still keeps breaking through.”

 

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” Yasufumi-sensei asked. “I already told you, this is about the bond between the two of you. You need to work together, in every aspect of the spell and your lives. I want you two attached at the hip from now on, whether you like it or not. Maybe then you’ll get it through your thick skulls.” Yasufumi-sensei seemed like she was about to say something more, but just then Ogata the receptionist came running up to her.

 

“Sorry to bother you, Sensei,” he said brightly, “but Mizushima-san wants a word with you.”

 

“Fine,” she growled. “You two, run the spell again. I don’t care if you think it’s useless, I want you working on it when I get back or so help me I will throw you both out of here faster than you can blink. Am I understood?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Kunimi sounded indolent, and something that was either fondness or murder flashed through Yasufumi-sensei’s eyes. She turned on her heel and stalked off.

 

“She’s scary whens he’s mad,” noted Yuutarou. Kunimi shrugged. “What do you think she meant by all that anyway?”

 

“Exactly what it sounded like,” Kunimi said. “We haven’t known each other long enough for this to work. Our bond isn’t strong enough.”

 

Yuutarou wondered if Kunimi had heard the same rant he had. It seemed to him that their bond was plenty strong, that it was they themselves who were mucking it up somehow. He frowned to himself as he walked over to help restore the grass before their next attempt. If Yasufumi-sensei was right and it was their bond that was the problem, then Yuutarou could only be the one to blame. And if all this had come about just by having feelings for Kunimi, then how much worse would it be if he ever admitted those feelings? If he ever tore that rift through their friendship?

 

It was too much to risk, he decided. As the first curls of green poked through the scorched earth, he vowed not to tell Kunimi a thing. It was only fair. He tried not to think too hard about how much that hurt as he and Kunimi fumbled their way through yet another failed test run.

 

Even though he promised himself he wouldn’t, Yuutaoru looked at the core of Kunimi’s magic as they brought the spell to an end. It was soothing, to say the very least, warm and familiar as Yuutarou’s own heartbeat. As he stared into its depths, he thought he could see reflections of his own magic, green and tender and basking in the warmth around it. He blinked, but the illusion didn’t go away.

 

For a moment, Yuutarou remembered. For a moment, he was twelve years old and standing on the edge of a barrier spell, watching his world crumble around him. He was thirteen, seeing Kunimi again after six months apart, only to have his heart shatter again. He was nine, meeting the boy who would become his best friend for the first time.

 

Yuutaoru didn’t know how he could have forgotten. Kunimi was his everything, his first and best friend. Kunimi was the other half of himself, the one person who understood Yuutarou better than anyone else. He remembered the moment he had forgotten, standing on a beach beneath the solstice moon. He remembered the loneliness that had followed, until Hinata and Tsukishima had found him and filled him again. Filled a hole that had had a shape, though Yuutarou hadn’t known enough to recognize it.

 

He remembered the others too, remembered meeting Kageyama and Iwaizumi and Oikawa, meetings that had been fuzzy at best before. He remembered the summer he had spent with them and the shrines they had visited. For a moment, he remembered why Yasufumi-sensei and everything about Yoshikawa Enterprises had seemed so familiar.

 

He looked at Kunimi, and his eyes filled with tears. His best friend, in both lifetimes. He had found his way back to Kunimi, despite everything. Despite all of Kunimi’s attempts to keep them apart, fate had drawn them back together. And Kunimi had let it happen. Maybe that meant there was more to them than either of them was realizing. Maybe, just maybe, Kunimi still felt the same way. After all, Kunimi had told him, to his face, that he’d had feelings for him at one point. Yuutarou just hadn’t had the frame of reference to realize it had been himself Kunimi had been talking about. Kunimi turned to look at him, and Yuutarou saw the entire world in Kunimi’s eyes. He couldn’t imagine how he had once found them guarded and blank. Not when he remembered them filled with so much anger and joy and love and _life_. For a moment, they were just as full as they had always been. For a moment, nothing else mattered.

 

For a moment, Yuutarou remembered everything.

 

And then he blinked and it was gone.

 

“Kindaichi?” asked Kunimi, sounding concerned. Yuutarou scrubbed at his forehead with a frown.

 

“I’m fine,” he said, and even to his own ears his voice sounded strained. “I just feel like I’ve forgotten something, you know?”

 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Kunimi said, “let’s see if it worked any better this time.” Yuutarou nodded and shook off the feeling in favor of the real world right in front of him.

 

Kuroda set fire to the field, coaxing the flames toward the boundary. It licked around the edges, acting like it had every time they had every time that day. Then all of a sudden, the fire split and veered off in either direction. It continued around the perimeter of the spell until it met on the other end of the circle. Kuroda frowned and pressed harder.

 

“Kindaichi,” whispered Kunimi, slipping his hand into Yuutarou’s. It was so warm, calloused and smaller than Yuutarou’s. Yuutarou couldn’t remember why he had been so strict with himself. Holding Kunimi’s hand felt like holding the sun, like all of Yuutarou’s dreams come true. Kunimi squeezed tight, like he would fly away if Yuutarou didn’t anchor him in place. Between watching Kuroda’s fire hesitate at the edge of the spell and drowning in the feel of Kunimi’s hand in his, Yuutarou felt much the same.

 

Kuroda gave one last push and the fire broke through. But somehow, watching the fire devour the grass within the boundaries, Yuutarou didn’t feel frustrated. He felt clean, washed by the temporary success. He turned to grin at Kunimi, only to find Kunimi already grinning up at him.

 

“Now that’s more like it,” said Yasufumi-sensei. “I don’t know what you boys did, but that’s what I mean by letting your bond into the spell.”

 

“I didn’t do anything differently this time,” Kunimi said, looking at Yuutarou with a questioning tilt to his eyebrows. Yuutarou shrugged. He honestly couldn’t remember anything specific about casting the spell, only how warm he had felt looking at Kunimi after.

 

“Well, whatever you did, keep it up,” said Yasufumi-sensei. “We may find a breakthrough yet.”

 

-

 

Akira’s first tactic in avoiding Kindaichi was simply to avoid going out at all. He stayed holed up in the guest room for the better part of a day, but he could tell that Kageyama was growing anxious. The more Akira tried to be selfish and keep on avoiding the world, the more guilty he felt. Kageyama sat on the floor in the bedroom, looking utterly forlorn, and finally Akira had enough.

 

“What is there to do here besides go to the beach?” he asked. There was no way he was risking going anywhere near the water, not when Kindaichi’s aunt’s shop was so close to the shore. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do other things in town, right?

 

“There’re a few museums,” Kageyama said reluctantly. “A library. Boring nerd stuff that you would like.”

 

“What is there to do that you would like?” Akira asked. Kageyama shrugged.

 

“There’s an aquarium I haven’t been to since I was a little kid,” he said. Akira wondered if Kageyama genuinely thought he couldn’t pick up the hopeful tone in his voice.

 

“Aquarium it is,” he said, closing his book. It was adorable, really, how Kageyama perked up at something so simple. He jumped up with excitement dazzling in his eyes and darted across the hall to change out of his pajamas. Akira laughed quietly and stood up to change his own clothes.

 

They were almost to the aquarium when they heard the first scream. Everything in Akira froze at the sound of all his worst nightmares coming true, again. He looked at Kageyama, hoping for a chance to pretend that they were just two normal boys who could run away from the sound of chaos, like everyone else. But the same resigned terror that set Akira’s hands to trembling was reflected there in Kageyama’s eyes and he knew they had no choice. He took Kageyama’s hand and turned toward the source of the commotion.

 

They found the chaos on a street not far from the shore. A wall of telekinetic power shook the walls and the ground beneath Akira’s feet. It was all too familiar, but this time at the center of the mess was not Kageyama, but Kindaichi. Akira squeezed Kageyama’s hand once, then let go and darted forward.

 

Perhaps it was the magic recognizing him as someone he could help, or perhaps it was Kindaichi protecting him, but either way the telekinetic pressure didn’t seem to affect him. Kindaichi was huddled in a ball on the ground, but he looked up when Akira crouched beside him.

 

“Kunimi,” he gasped, and reached out for him. Akira took his hand and held it tight.

 

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m right here.”

 

“Kunimi, it hurts.”

 

“I know,” Akira soothed. “Give me your other hand.” Kindaichi was slow to comply, but he obeyed eventually. Akira held him fast and reached for the edges of Kageyama’s magic.

 

He caught at the magic, pulling it fiercely toward himself. It went as requested, letting Akira in. Akira found the box in shattered ruins and sighed.

 

“We can’t keep this up very long,” he said.

 

“I don’t know what else to do,” Kindaichi sobbed. Akira bit his lip.

 

“I know,” he said. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.” He tugged at the magic, but it seemed reluctant to obey. He sighed. “We’re going to have to go in for this,” he said.

 

“Okay.” Kindaichi sounded much calmer now.

 

“Show me the way in,” Akira whispered. Kindaichi shivered, and all at once they were in the field covered in dahlias. Akira sat on the ground and looked at the flowers around them. “You know,” he said idly, “these really are beautiful.”

 

“It’s only because I grew them for you,” Kindaichi said. “I’ve always grown my best plants when they were for you.” He sat beside Akira and wrapped his arms around his legs.

 

“I’ve been so cruel to you,” Akira sighed.

 

“I haven’t made it easy on you either,” Kindaichi said.

 

Akira shook his head. He didn’t speak, he just let his thoughts drift between them. He had stayed away, even though he knew that staying away would only hurt Kindaichi. He held him at arm’s length and pretended there was nothing wrong with that.

 

Kindaichi let all that wash over him, and then returned with his own thoughts. He knew Akira wanted to go, but he hadn’t let him. He projected all his hurt onto Akira, and onto Kageyama. He hated Kageyama for taking Akira away from him, for saddling him with magic that wasn’t his. He hadn’t wanted to give him a chance, even when he saw how important he was to Akira. He played the martyr and insisted everyone dance to his tune.

 

“Okay maybe we both messed up,” Akira said. “So what do we do from here?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean clearly what we were doing isn’t working,” Akira said. “If it was, you wouldn’t be having a fit in the middle of the street.”

 

“I don’t know that that’s your fault,” Kindaichi said.

 

“It’s at least partially me,” Akira said. “Kageyama’s magic was looking for me, and it’s feeding off of the stress I’m causing you. So even if it’s only a little bit, if I can change what I’m doing wrong, then maybe I can help.”

 

“Okay, what do you have in mind?” Akira grimaced.

 

“I think, for the time being, it would be best to pretend nothing’s happening,” he said.

 

“What do you mean? That’s an awful lot to pretend.” Kindaichi looked bemused. Akira smacked him on the arm.

 

“I mean, we should act like the solstice doesn’t mean a thing,” he said. “This is just a summer break, part of a new normal. Let’s be friends for now, and let the rest of it fall into place after.”

 

“But the solstice is coming,” Kindaichi said. “We can’t ignore that.” Akira looked around the field of flowers and sighed.

 

“When it comes,” Akira said slowly, “then we’ll decide where to go from there. But we have to get there first, and that’s not happening if we don’t change something.”

 

“Okay,” Kindaichi said. “Friends?” He held out his hand. Akira took it.

 

“Friends,” he said. The field faded away to a peaceful street, empty of everyone but the two of them and Kageyama. Akira took a deep breath and smiled.

 

-*-


	46. Chapter 46

“So what’s this I hear from Oikawwa-kun about a tattoo?” snipped Yuutarou’s mother over the phone. Yuutarou bit back a sigh and set his pencil and sketchbook down, twisting his arm to look at the flowers inked into his skin.

 

“It’s pretty, Mom,” he said.

 

“Pretty.”

 

“Yes, pretty.” Yuutarou bit his lip to keep from smiling. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“Is it at least somewhere you can cover up?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, it’s covered by most of my shirts,” Yuutarou told her.

 

“Good. I don’t want people thinking my son is some kind of yakuza thug.”

 

“Right, because a bunch of sunflowers is going to make people think I’m yakuza,” Yuutarou droned.

 

“Don’t you snark at me,” she said. “I will come out there and make your life a living hell, don’t think I won’t.”

 

“What could you even do?” he asked, more amused than threatened.

 

“Oh, I’m sure Kunimi-kun and I have a lot to catch up on,” she said. “I know all the most embarrassing stories about you, Yuu, so don’t think I won’t use that to my advantage.”

 

“And that’s why you’re never meeting him,” Yuutarou said. “I’d like to keep this one friendship as clear of embarrassment as possible.”

 

“Oh it’s not like he’s never seen you do something embarrassing,” she said. “Remember that time you thought the house was on fire so you came running out of the shower buck naked right as he was walking in the door?”

 

“…No?” Yuutarou furrowed his brow. “Mom, what are you talking about?”

 

“Nothing,” she said quickly. A part of him caught onto that, a part that screamed for him to press harder, dig deeper, find out what she meant. But the rest of him was too busy swirling in a painful fog. “Yuu, are you all right?” she asked.

 

“I’m… fine,” he said. “Just dizzy I guess.” It was partially true. He felt like he was falling, tumbling head-over-heels again and again through endless blackness. But more than that he was struck by a frustration, something like trying to remember a dream when consciousness was already draining it away. He shook his head to clear it. “How’s Dad been?” he asked. “He had that new project proposal coming up the last time I talked to him, how’d that go?”

 

“Oh, it went about as well as we expected,” she said. Yuutarou listened to the story absently. Mostly he just wanted to hear the sound of her voice. He didn’t talk to his mother as often as he probably should, especially considering how he always felt better, less lonely when he could hear her talk. Mostly he didn’t want to worry her with the way he would become periodically despondent and overly lonely. She worried about him enough as it was. She always had. “I am glad you’re making new friends though,” she said suddenly. “The last new one we had heard of was that Yachi girl, and that was years ago.”

 

“I have plenty of friends, Mom.” It was an old, familiar argument, one that he found comfort in. She laughed at him.

 

“If you say so,” she said. “Personally I think you deserve many, many more.”

 

“That sounds exhausting,” he laughed. “It’s enough work keeping up with the ones I’ve got.”

 

“Speaking of work,” she said. “Tell me about your internship! How is the spell coming?”

 

“I’m… hopeful, I guess,” he said. “There’s still a long way to go.”

 

“Well I’m sure you’ll get there soon,” she said. There was a muffled sound on the other end. “I have to go. Your father is trying to rebuild a shelf and it sounds like the shelf is winning.”

 

“Have fun,” he laughed. “Love you, Mom.”

 

“Love you too, Yuu,” she said, and hung up. Yuutarou picked up his sketchbook and kept working. There wasn’t long to wait before a knock at the door signaled Kunimi’s quiet entrance.

 

“Was that your mom?” he asked, climbing up onto the bed beside Yuutarou.

 

“Yeah,” Yuutarou said. He paused in his sketching, then chuckled to himself. “You know, I think she has you confused for one of my other friends.”

 

“How so?”

 

“She kept implying that we knew each other before this year,” Yuutarou explained. “She was reminiscing about something embarrassing I did, probably in front of Tsukishima or Hinata, and saying it was you instead.”

 

“Weird.” There was something strange in Kunimi’s voice.

 

“Yeah.” The silence stretched between them, long and slightly awkward. Or, maybe, not as awkward as Yuutarou thought it was. Maybe it was just him who was the awkward one, freaking out because Kunimi was sitting so close to him while to Kunimi it was just a normal evening. “So I’m going to start dinner soon,” he said a bit too loudly. “Any requests?”

 

“Whatever,” Kunimi said. “Everything you make is good.” Yuutarou, inexplicably, blushed. He stood quickly and turned toward his desk so that Kunimi couldn’t see. Under the guise of putting his pencils away he tried to get himself to calm down. “You okay?” Kunimi asked.

 

“Fine,” Yuutarou replied. “Just a little dizzy.”

 

“Maybe you should take it easy tonight,” Kunimi said. “We can order dinner instead.”

 

“No, I’m fine,” Yuutarou insisted. He straightened up, and all at once his vision greyed out. Dimly, he could hear Kunimi shout something, but he couldn’t make it out. He swayed, then regained both his balance and his vision. “See?” he laughed. “Perfectly fine.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Kunimi said. He grabbed Yuutarou by the back of the shirt and pulled him back onto the bed. “I’m going to go see what Goshiki likes on his pizza.” Kunimi stood and crossed to the door where he paused, staring at Yuutarou. Yuutarou forced himself to stare back despite the heat growing in his cheeks. Finally, Kunimi nodded to himself and left. He closed the door quietly behind him and Yuutarou was left alone with his thoughts and the fading dizziness. On the sketchbook page, the tree that his talisman had come from watched silently and offered no answers.

 

-

 

Yuutarou dreamed that night of a seashore. There were windchimes playing in the distance, but Yuutarou couldn’t see them. He trailed his hands through waist-high sea grass and took a deep breath of ocean air. This would be perfect, he thought, if only Kunimi was there.

 

As though summoned by the thought, laughter drifted over the shoreline. Yuutarou turned toward it to find its source jogging toward him, a smile on his face and a light in his big blue eyes. He wore a shirt he had borrowed from his roommate, far too big on his slender frame, and shorts that disappeared under its hem. His hair was clipped up by matching pink bobby pins. He was the most beautiful person Yuutarou had ever seen.

 

“Kunimi,” said Yuutarou. Kunimi laughed again, finally skidding to a stop in front of him. “I found you.”

 

“You did,” Kunimi said. “I’m here because of you.”

 

“Where is here?” Yuutarou asked, suddenly feeling that here would become wherever they wanted it to be.

 

“Here is… the place we first met,” Kunimi said, and all of a sudden it was.

 

Only, it wasn’t. They weren’t in the cafe. They were in a school.

 

“What is this place?” Yuutarou asked, turning to look around.

 

“The place we first met,” answered Kunimi, but his voice was strange. Yuutarou turned to face him, only to stop short. Kunimi was there, but he was younger, so much younger. Ten years, at least, probably closer to fifteen. He blinked up at Yuutarou with a steel wall behind his eyes.

 

“No it isn’t,” Yuutarou said, and all at once he was right. They were in the cafe, where their first sighting of each other had happened. Yuutarou felt settled there, felt right. He looked at Kunimi again, and found him the right age. “See?” he asked.

 

“If you say so,” Kunimi said, and went to sit on the couch. Yuutarou sat in his usual armchair and looked around, content. There were people in the cafe, people Yuutarou knew and loved. Tsukishima, Hinata, and Yachi were sharing a table in a corner. Ushijima sat pretending to read a book while he actually watched Oikawa and Kageyama bicker near the door. Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki sat at the table next to him, laughing. Yahaba, Watari, and Yamaguchi were all flirting with Kyoutani at the counter. Lev, Kuroo, Sugawara, Bokuto, Tanaka, and Kenma were all crowded around a table in the center of the room, though they were quiet for once. Everyone was quiet.

 

“Why is it so quiet?” Yuutaoru asked.

 

“Because this is a dream,” Kunimi replied. And it was. Yuutarou could see that now. He sighed to himself.

 

“Even in dreams, I’m boring,” he said.

 

“I don’t think this is boring,” said Kunimi. “I think it’s nice to be loved by so many people.”

 

“I am pretty lucky in that,” Yuutarou said, but it was an automatic response.

 

“You still think they don’t love you as much as you love them,” Kunimi accused.

 

“Would you?” Yuutarou asked. “If you were me, would you really think anyone could love you that much?”

 

“I know that they do,” Kunimi said. “Because I love you most of all.”

 

“You’re just a dream,” Yuutarou pointed out. “The real you likes me well enough, but he would never _love_ me. Especially not the way I want him to.”

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Kunimi. “But you’re not with the real me right now, you’re with _me._ Make the most of it.”

 

Yuutarou blinked and the cafe was empty and Kunimi was in his lap. He ran his hands up Kunimi’s spine, feeling the incredible warmth, and bit his lip.

 

“I can’t do this,” he said.

 

“Why not?” asked Kunimi. Yuutarou looked up at him, at the fire in his eyes.

 

“Because this isn’t real,” said Yuutarou. “This isn’t the real you. The real you wouldn’t want this.”

 

“How do you know?” whispered Kunimi. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Yuutarou’s cheek. “How do you know this isn’t exactly what I want?”

 

“Because…” Yuutarou shook his head. There were too many reasons to get into, but all of them were obvious. “Because I’m me,” he said.

 

“Exactly.” Another kiss to Yuutarou’s cheek, and one to the shell of his ear. “You’re you.” Kunimi’s breath fanned across Yuutarou’s neck and he shivered. “You’re _you._ ” Kunimi kissed down Yuutarou’s neck and despite himself, he tilted his head to the side to give him more room. Kunimi’s hands fisted in the sides of Yuutarou’s shirt. Yuutarou held him just as tight, sure that if he didn’t, he would fly apart. Kunimi kissed back up the other side of Yuutarou’s neck and across his cheek.

 

“Kunimi,” whispered Yuutarou as Kunimi pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 

“I don’t understand what you don’t get about this,” Kunimi murmured. “I don’t understand you at all. But maybe I was right all along. Maybe you don’t feel the same way.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Yuutaoru asked.

 

“I confessed everything to you, but you can’t remember it,” Kunimi said. “You shouldn’t remember it. If you do, it’ll ruin you.”

 

“Kunimi, I don’t understand.”

 

“I don’t need you to understand,” Kunimi said. “I just need you to love me.”

 

Yuutarou stared up at Kunimi, at those eyes that held no trace of steel. They swam with fire and fury and devotion and everything that made Yuutarou’s breath hitch and his hands shake. He slid his hands up Kunimi’s sides and cupped his cheeks.

 

“I do,” he whispered. “I do love you.”

 

“Yuutarou,” whispered Kunimi, just before he kissed him.

 

Yuutaoru woke with a start. Exhilaration and guilt washed over him in waves and he covered his face with his hands.

 

-

 

Kindaichi couldn’t brew a potion to save his life. He stared down at the pot of bubbling tar in front of him, dismay written clearly across his face. Akira tried not to laugh.

 

“It’s not supposed to do that,” Kindaichi said. “It was supposed to turn light purple and smell like apples.” He flipped through the book in search of what he had done wrong while Akira bit his lip. A pile of potion ingredients sat in a heap beside the pot, haphazard and probably entirely wrong.

 

“In your defense, it is a book for cottage witches,” Akira said. “You’re a mage, not a witch.”

 

“A green mage, though,” whined Kindaichi. “Green magi are supposed to be the closest thing to witches.”

 

“I never would’ve guessed.” The pot gave a particularly impressive belch and Akira lost control. He grabbed at the table he was sitting at in order to keep from falling over as he laughed so hard his sides hurt. Kindaichi pouted at him for a moment, then a smile cracked across his face, too. The bell over the door jangled.

 

“Well I see you two are having loads of fun,” crooned Oikawa. He sauntered over to the table and wrapped an arm around Kindaichi’s shoulders. “Mind if I borrow you for a bit?” he asked, leaning close and grinning. Iwaizumi stepped up to the table and smacked him.

 

“Why?” asked Kindaichi.

 

“Because I said so,” said Oikawa, grinning. Kindaichi grinned back and nodded.

 

“Will you be okay if I go?” he asked Akira.

 

“Actually I was wondering if I could talk to Kunimi in private,” said Iwaizumi.

 

“Sure,” said Akira slowly. Kindaichi let Oikawa lead him out of the shop, leaving Iwaizumi to take the now-empty seat across from Akira. “What’s up?”

 

“The solstice is coming soon,” Iwaizumi said. “I wanted to know if you’d given any more thought to what I said. From the looks of things, you already have.”

 

“Kindaichi and I have decided it’s safer if we stick together until this mess is sorted,” Akira said. “We’ll decide what happens after when we get there.”

 

“You’re still planning on leaving him, then.”

 

“It’s not that simple.”

 

“So explain it to me.”

 

Akira sighed. “If I stay away from him now, we run the risk of having him have another fit in the street, and possibly destroying this entire town, and himself. If I stay with him later, we run the risk of me losing control and hurting him more than I already have. And now, wherever I go Kageyama goes. How do we know there’s no risk of the magic not slipping back into him after we’ve taken it out?”

 

“We don’t,” said Iwaizumi with a shrug. “But how do we know it will?”

 

“I’d rather not risk it.”

 

“I think you’re dodging something,” Iwaizumi said. “Running away.”

 

“I’m not running from anything,” scoffed Akira.

 

“I think you are,” Iwaizumi insisted. “You don’t have to tell me what it is, but I’m worried about you. I want to know you’re making this choice for the right reasons, not because you’re scared of the alternative.”

 

“I’m not scared of anything.” The lie sat heavy between them, but Akira refused to acknowledge it.

 

“I can’t make you make up your mind,” said Iwaizumi. “But I can ask you to consider all your options. If you can’t talk to me about this, talk to someone you can trust. Kageyama, maybe. Just don’t hold all this inside.” Iwaizumi smiled at him, then stood. “Oh, and thank you,” he said.

 

“For what?”

 

“For giving me an excuse to get Oikawa to hang out with Kindaichi. It’s been a while since he had friends other than Mattsun, Makki, and I.” Iwaizumi winked at Akira and left the shop. Akira stared at the door where it had swung shut behind him, only to startle when it opened again and Kageyama walked in.

 

“What did Iwaizumi-san want?” he asked.

 

“An excuse, apparently,” Akira said. “Some reason to make Oikawa-san make new friends.”

 

“Oikawa-san is great at making friends,” pouted Kageyama. Akira laughed.

 

“So are you,” he said. “You just don’t realize it.” He stretched his arms over his head with a yawn. “You know, this may be the first time in my life I’ve been impatient for school to start again.”

 

“School would mean this is all over,” Kageyama agreed. He leaned against Akira’s side and sighed.

 

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Akira said. Kageyama snorted.

 

“Wasn’t going to,” he said. “I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

 

“I’m fine,” said Akira automatically. The look Kageyama gave him said exactly how much he appreciated the nothing placation. “Okay, I’m not fine,” Akira relented. “I’m scared out of my skull that something’s going to go wrong before the solstice. Or that everything is going to go right and I’m still going to end up alone.”

 

“You’re not alone,” Kageyama said. “Even if nothing else goes right, you’ve got me. We’re still legally stuck together.”

 

“Thanks,” Akira said.

 

“And there’s all those friends that I’m supposedly so good at making,” Kageyama continued. “Last I checked they were your friends too.”

 

“Do they have to be?” Akira groaned. Kageyama chuckled.

 

Just then the bell above the door jangled and Oikawa swanned in with Kindaichi under his arm. “There you two are,” he crowed when he caught sight of the two of them at the table. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

 

“I literally have not moved,” Akira said.

 

“Not you,” said Oikawa, flapping his hand, “Tobio. We were gonna find him and then come back and grab you. It’s beach volleyball time!”

 

Akira thought about arguing, but it was really more effort than it was worth. Especially when he knew Oikawa would win regardless. So he sighed loudly enough to make his displeasure known, then hopped off of his stool and followed Oikawa and Kindaichi out of the shop and onto the beach.

 

-*-


	47. Chapter 47

Yuutarou should have expected this. It was spa day, after all, and Yuutarou hadn’t missed a spa day in over a year. Oikawa wasn’t about to let something like an internship ruin that streak. Still, when he showed up the next day carrying his basket of creams and masks and shoved past Yuutarou without so much as a hello before launching into a rant about Kageyama’s fashion taste, Yuutaoru could only stand there stunned.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked dumbly.

 

“Kindaichi, it’s spa day,” said Oikawa, as though he were explaining something simple to a particularly dim child. “Anyway, go grab Kunimi-chan and that other little roommate of yours and let’s get started.”

 

“Goshiki’s out for a run,” said Kunimi, padding down the hallway in the same outfit he had worn the last time. Yuutarou flushed and looked away, willing down the memory of the dream he’d had the night before. “Anyone else coming?”

 

“How did you even know about this?” Yuutarou demanded.

 

“He texted me,” said Kunimi, sounding unimpressed. “He texted you too.”

 

Yuutarou grabbed his phone from where he had left it on the counter and, sure enough, there were several texts from Oikawa and one from Iwaizumi. He thumbed open the one from Iwaizumi to find a warning about Oikawa’s impending arrival and wishing him luck.

 

“Why does Iwaizumi-san think I need good luck?” Yuutaoru asked, settling down on the floor with his back to the couch. Oikawa shrugged and refused to make eye contact. “Oikawa-san.”

 

“I may have been freaking out a bit before I left,” he admitted. “But that’s why I need a spa day! To relax and not freak out.”

 

“What were you freaking out about?” asked Kunimi from the kitchen. He returned with a few glasses of tea which he set on the coffee table before sitting across from Yuutarou. He reached up to hit play on the stereo behind him, and soft instrumental music filled the room.

 

“Nothing important, as per usual,” said Oikawa. He plucked a face mask out of the basket and handed it over to Kunimi. “Anyway, spa day is extra important this month because I have a date I need to look my best for.”

 

“What kind of date?” Yuutarou teased. Oikawa puffed up his chest and flicked his hair, but his grin remained genuine and a little sheepish.

 

“A date with Ushiwaka,” he said.

 

“Congratulations,” laughed Yuutarou. “It’s about damn time.”

 

“I think Tobio mentioned it or something,” Oikawa said, “but he insists Ushiwaka asked me out all on his own.” He blushed and busied himself with opening his face mask. Yuutarou laughed quietly.

 

“I’m happy for you,” he said.

 

“I am too,” Oikawa replied, utterly sincere. _I_ _’d like to be happy for you too. Why do you look like you’ve been crying?_

 

 _Because I_ _’ve been crying,_ Yuutarou replied. He flicked through Oikawa’s collection of nail polishes idly.

 

_Kindaichi-_

 

 _It was a bad dream_ , Yuutarou interrupted. _Nothing to worry about._

 

 _Was it about him?_ Yuutarou didn’t need to look up to know Oikawa was looking at Kunimi. He also didn’t need to look up to know that Kunimi was now lying on his back, either staring at the ceiling or halfway asleep already. He shook his head.

 

 _Of course it was about him. It_ _’s always about him._ He found the color he wanted and pulled one of Oikawa’s feet into his lap.

 

 _Talk to me?_ Oikawa prompted. _You don_ _’t have to of course, but I’m here._

 

Yuutarou sighed as quietly as he could. He didn’t look up at Oikawa as he replayed the dream for him, blushing fiercely the entire time. Oikawa reached out and cupped his cheek coaxing his face upwards.

 

 _I_ _’m sorry,_ he whispered. _I_ _’m sorry you have to go through this. I wish you didn’t have to._

 

 _It_ _’s my own fault,_ Yuutarou thought with a shrug. _I_ _’m the idiot who fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back._

 

 _Kindaichi you know it_ _’s not that simple,_ Oikawa scolded.

 

 _Does it matter?_ Yuutarou asked. _He doesn_ _’t feel the same way about me. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the simplest thing in the world._

 

 _Oh, Kindaichi._ And that was it. The sum total of Oikawa’s consolation and advice came down to a single Oh, Kindaichi. There were no more words between them, because everything that could be said had already been said. The music took the place of conversation, and Yuutarou let it carry his thoughts far, far away.

 

“Kindaichi, why do you never paint your own nails?” asked Kunimi suddenly, what could have been hours later. Yuutarou blinked down at his hands, devoid of color. He shrugged.

 

“I’m not ambidextrous,” he said. “I can’t paint my right hand without smudging it.”

 

“Come here, then,” said Kunimi, sitting up.

 

Confused, Yuutarou did as he was told and shuffled over. Kunimi grabbed his wrist and pulled it close to himself, considering Yuutarou’s hand. He let go and started digging through the bag of polishes. He came up with a deep forest green and grabbed Yuutarou’s hand again.

 

Kunimi sucked at painting nails, but Yuutarou could barely focus on that. As he watched Kunimi’s uneven work, all he could think about was how very warm his hands were, and how nice they felt against Yuutarou’s. His palms were rough, calloused from constant burning. His fingers were slender, but strong as they moved Yuutaoru’s hand this way or that.

 

Yuutarou had held Kunimi’s hand before, but he had never stopped to admire the sensation beyond noticing how warm they were. Of course they were warm. Everything about Kunimi was warm. But he was also soft, everywhere except his hands. It was a heady distinction, one that Yuutarou felt both privileged and guilty to make. Kunimi finished with one hand and reached for the other with a determined look on his face. Yuutarou set the painted hand on his knee, careful not to smudge the messy paint job. He would keep this polish on as long as he could stand it.

 

 _God, what a sap_ , laughed Oikawa. Yuutarou swore politely at him, and only got laughter in return.

 

“What are you two talking about?” asked Kunimi quietly.

 

“We’re laughing at your bad nail painting,” said Oikawa smoothly.

 

“He is,” said Yuutarou. “I’m not. I think it’s perfect.”

 

“Shut up,” said Kunimi, drawing the brush in another jagged line. Yuutarou grinned at him.

 

“No really,” he said. “You’re doing great. You could do this professionally.”

 

“Anything’s better than that damn store,” Kunimi said. “This month away from there has been the best of my life.”

 

“Iwa-chan is always telling me horror stories about that place,” hummed Oikawa. “Like one time, when a customer went into labor but insisted on staying in line until she could return her shirt.”

 

“That was before I got there,” Kunimi said, “but apparently the shirt wasn’t even from our store. It was from a thrift store or something.”

 

“You mean that actually happened?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi nodded.

 

“It’s part of our training,” he said. “What to do if a belligerent customer goes into labor but refuses to leave. We’re now required to call them an ambulance, as part of company policy. She didn’t leave for an hour and then tried to sue the company.” Kunimi finished painting Yuutaoru’s nails and picked up a top coat, reaching for the other hand. Yuutarou watched him work through half-lidded eyes. He didn’t let go when he was finished, but held Yuutarou’s hand on his knee. His thumb stroked absently over the back of Yuutarou’s hand as he told more stories about obnoxious customers, or listened to Oikawa talk about the cafe. He only let go when the door opened and Goshiki tumbled into the apartment.

 

“Oikawa-san!” he shouted, staring at the trio in the living room. “Why are you here?”

 

“It’s spa day,” Kunimi said, as if that explained anything.

 

“Go change and then get your butt back out here,” demanded Oikawa. “I need to pick your brain about something.” Goshiki straightened and darted from the room obediently. Yuutarou watched him go with growing trepidation.

 

“Oikawa-san, be nice to him,” he said. “We still have to live with him after this.”

 

“I’m going to be perfectly nice,” said Oikawa, peeling off his face mask and stuffing it back into the packaging. “I just want to ask him a few questions.”

 

“About what?” asked Yuutarou.

 

“Ushiwaka’s favorite color, for one,” said Oikawa, examining his nails.

 

“Why can’t you just ask him that yourself?”

 

“Because it will be too late by the next time I see him,” said Oikawa. “And because this way when Bowl Cut-kun inevitably yaps about this conversation, Ushiwaka will know I was asking about him, and he’ll be touched. Or something like that, I don’t really understand the whole sentiment behind it.”

 

“Right, because that time you found out Kageyama had asked me about your favorite flowers, you weren’t touched or something like that yourself,” Yuutarou droned. Oikawa tapped on the side of his nose in acknowledgment. Goshiki reappeared in a clean shirt and sweats and sat next to Kunimi.

 

“What do you need, Oikawa-san?” he chirped.

 

“Face mask first, Bowl Cut-kun,” Oikawa sang. “That’s the rules of spa day.”

 

Goshiki pinned back his hair and smeared a cream across his face as requested. He flicked through the nail polish curiously, accepting Yuutaoru’s offer to paint his nails for him. They fell into a comfortable silence for a time.

 

“Okay, Bowl Cut-kun,” said Oikawa at last. “Tell me about Ushiwaka.”

 

-

 

Yuutarou walked Oikawa back to the station that evening. It had only been a short time since they had moved into the apartment, but it still felt strange being away from Kunimi for any length of time. Yuutarou snorted at himself.

 

“You’re going to be okay, Kindaichi,” said Oikawa.

 

“What prompted that?” asked Yuutarou, bewildered.

 

“This whole thing with Kunimi-chan,” Oikawa said. “You’re going to be okay. I can tell.”

 

Yuutarou smiled, somewhat indulgently. “How do you know that?” he asked.

 

“I know everything. Don’t you know that?” Yuutarou laughed and Oikawa laughed with him. The night wheeled on around them and Yuutarou felt invincible. “You should tell him how you feel,” Oikawa continued. “You should do it tonight.”

 

“Maybe I will,” Yuutarou laughed. “Maybe I’ll do the impossible. Tonight’s as good a night as any.”

 

“Don’t mock me, Kindaichi,” Oikawa warned. “I know many things and am very powerful.” He tossed his head and promptly tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. Yuutarou caught him, laughing. “No but, seriously,” Oikawa said. “You should tell him. I think it’ll go better than you think it will.”

 

“Why, did you read his mind?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“Nope. I read his face. It’s much more telling. And easier, too. He does this silence thing when he doesn’t want someone poking around in his head, it’s creepy and-”

 

“Oikawa-san.”

 

“ _And_ the point is, he’s not as hard to understand as you seem to think he is,” Oikawa said. “He likes you just as much as you like him.”

 

“Maybe you’re right,” Yuutarou said.

 

“I know you’re just appeasing me.” They reached the station at last and Oikawa eased himself up the steps to the platform. He paused at the top, turning around to consider Yuutarou. “Someday you’re going to realize you’re worthy of being loved,” he said.

 

“I know I am,” Yuutarou replied. Oikawa shook his head.

 

“Not just by me, silly.” He smiled. “Goodnight, Kindaichi.”

 

“Goodnight, Oikawa-san,” Yuutarou replied to Oikawa’s already-retreating back. He shook his head and turned to make the walk back home. He let himself imagine as he walked what it would be like if Oikawa was right and Kunimi loved him back. He couldn’t stop thinking about how rough and warm Kunimi’s hand had been in his, and the way he had concentrated on the nail polish like it was the most important thing he could have been doing then. He imagined being the subject of that attention all the time.

 

He laughed into the night.

 

-

 

Akira woke absurdly early the day before the solstice to the sun slanting across his face. He groaned and rolled over, burying his nose in the shoulder of Kageyama’s shirt. Kageyama groaned and batted weakly at him.

 

“Wakey wakey,” sang a voice from across the room. Akira peeled open an eye to see Oikawa standing by the curtains with a self-satisfied smirk. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauties.”

 

“Fuck off,” Akira grumbled, and snuggled closer to Kageyama.

 

“Such language!” gasped Oikawa. “Get your little asses out of bed already. We’ve got a big day ahead.”

 

“What kind of big day?” asked Kageyama, sitting up.

 

“Traitor,” muttered Akira.

 

“There’s a festival tonight, remember? You kids are going whether you want to or not, so I’m here to get you ready.” Oikawa brandished his bag at them menacingly.

 

“What are you going to do to us?” Kageyama sounded genuinely fearful. Oikawa snorted and tossed his hair.

 

“Nothing _bad_ ,” he said. “I’m just going to get you gussied up for the festival. Have a spa day, relax a bit, maybe get rid of some of those premature frown lines you two are developing.”

 

“I don’t have frown lines,” muttered Kageyama, frowning.

 

“You will if you keep that up,” sang Oikawa. “Anyway, this is non-negotiable. I’m bigger _and_ stronger than both of you, and you’re not leaving this apartment until I’ve had my way. It’s my job to keep you two distracted until Iwa-chan is done with the gangly one, so we’re all stuck together for the foreseeable future.”

 

“If we give him what he wants, do you think he’ll shut up?” Akira asked. Kageyama snorted and nudged Akira in the side. He kept nudging until Akira groaned and rolled out of bed. He landed on the floor with a thump and a bleary blink.

 

“Well I suppose that’s as good as I’m getting, huh?” asked Oikawa. He pulled a head band out of his bag “Here, take this and use it to push your hair back. We’ll start with masks and creams and then see where to go from there.” Akira took the band and put it on, too exhausted to argue. He let Oikawa slather a cream on his face and listened to him chatter about something his friends had done the last time they had been out together. Kageyama listened intently, nodding and making encouraging noises wherever appropriate, like he genuinely cared about the story and the people in it. Akira leaned against the wall and let Oikawa’s voice carry him away.

 

-

 

Akira had never been one for festivals. There were always too many people milling about and bumping into him, too many smells and too many sounds and too many people trying to sell him things. Oikawa had forced them into yukata, despite Akira’s protests that they were really too old for that sort of thing. Everything about festivals was a nuisance.

 

Kageyama, as it turned out, loved them.

 

“I haven’t been since I was a kid,” he said quietly, staring up at the strings of lanterns hanging across the street.

 

“How come?” asked Oikawa idly. He was all but glowing with excitement, and it wasn’t hard to see why. People loved Oikawa, constantly stopping him to say hello or compliment his outfit or ask how he was doing. They ignored Kageyama and Akira entirely.

 

“Gee, I wonder,” said Akira. Kageyama’s shrug all but confirmed his suspicions.

 

“Anyway,” said Oikawa, “we’re supposed to meet Iwa-chan in front of the old hag’s shop. We’d better hurry before he decides to be a meanie and enjoy the festival without us.”

 

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” droned Akira, but he let Kageyama tug him forward anyway.

 

It took them ages to get through the festival crowds. Between Oikawa’s socializing and Kageyama’s reluctance to leave without having looked at every last thing, their progress was slow. By the time they reached Kindaichi’s aunt’s shop, Akira was ready to leave. He turned to say as much to Kageyama as the door opened and Iwaizumi and Kindaichi emerged. Akira’s words caught in his throat.

 

Kindaichi looked so sweetly awkward, standing in the doorway of his aunt’s shop in a dark blue yukata. His hair was slicked backwards and he fiddled with the hems of his sleeves. There was a flush on his cheeks and he looked anywhere but at any of them. Akira bit his lip and looked away.

 

“Good, you’re dressed,” Oikawa said, as if he were totally unaware of Akira’s entire world crashing down around his ears. The grin and the elbow to the ribs he gave Akira said otherwise. “Let’s go get candied apples!”

 

Oikawa grabbed Iwaizumi by the arm and dragged him away, leaving the rest of them to follow. Akira fell into line between Kindaichi and Kageyama, feeling like he was both freezing and burning at once. The back of Kindaichi’s hand brushed his and he startled.

 

“I haven’t been to a festival in years,” Kindaichi laughed.

 

“None of us have,” Akira said.

 

“Yeah, you never liked them, did you? You always wanted to stay home and play video games instead.”

 

“Or nap,” Akira added. He nudged Kageyama. “What do you want to do first?”

 

“Candied apples sounded good,” Kageyama said a little awkwardly. Akira nodded and walked a little faster, trying fruitlessly to catch up with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. They finally did catch up just as they reached the booth, and just in time for Oikawa to gasp and grab Kageyama’s arm.

 

“Tobio, look!” he shouted, and started dragging Kageyama away. Iwaizumi sore and darted off after them. The crowd swelled and swallowed the trio whole, leaving Akira and Kindaichi alone.

 

“Well then,” Akira said. “That was subtle.”

 

“Very,” laughed Kindaichi. “You want an apple?”

 

Akira looked up at the booth, and then over at Kindaichi. He was beautiful under the lantern light, with all that child-like excitement sketched out across his face. Akira smiled.

 

“I’d love one,” he said.

 

-*-


	48. Chapter 48

Yuutarou untangled his magic from Kunimi’s and watched the spell fade from his vision. Around them, the noises of the lab had become familiar, ordinary. He stepped back from the circle automatically and watched as Kuroda stepped up to its edge.

 

“I feel pretty good about this one,” he said softly. Kunimi snorted.

 

“You’ve felt good about all of them lately,” he said. Yuutarou turned to grin at him.

 

“That’s because I believe in us,” he said.

 

“You’re disgusting.”

 

“I’m not disgusting, I’m-”

 

“Kindaichi,” interrupted Kunimi, grabbing Yuutarou’s arm. He pointed at the field. Yuutarou turned to look, confused, and stopped short.

 

Kuroda stood at the edge of the field, lobbing balls of fire at the field. Each one hit and then dispersed, leaving the grass lush and pristine where it landed. He sent a sweeping wave of fire across the circle, but none of the grass was touched.

 

The spell was working.

 

“That’s enough,” said Yasufumi-sensei after some time. She smiled, first at the circle, then at Kuroda, and finally at Kunimi and Yuutarou. “That’s the final threshold, boys. It works, no matter the caster.”

 

“You mean no matter the fire, right?” asked Yuutarou. “That’s what this was about, seeing whether it would stand up to different types of fire, right?”

 

“In a way,” said Yasufumi-sensei. “You see, when you boys brought this spell in, we started testing it with our other green and fire magi, just to be sure. It took a bit of a learning curve, but after a few attempts they were all able to cast it perfectly.”

 

“There was only a problem with the two of us,” Kunimi said. Yasufumi-sensei nodded.

 

“I figured it had something to do with the fact that you two authored the spell,” she said. “You were seeing the trees, but not the forest. Then as time went on I came to realize it was a problem in the bond between the two of you as individuals. Which, you can imagine, was a problem, since our plan has always been for the two of you to present this spell to the Magic High Council.”

 

“You really think it’s ready for that?” Kunimi didn’t sound impressed.

 

“I think it’s almost there,” admitted Yasufumi-sensei. “I think it’s ready to present to backers. As soon as you two can make this performance consistent, we’ll put together a presentation and bring in investors.”

 

“Investors,” repeated Yuutarou. “The Magic High Council.”

 

“We’ve always believed it would get there.It was only a matter of when you two would reach that point,” said Yasufumi-sensei. “Of course, this is entirely up to you. This spell is your intellectual property, so if you decide you don’t want to go forward with it, that is your prerogative. We can stop the process here with the knowledge that the spell works and move on with our lives, or we can present it to be officialized and put into practice around the world. It’s your choice.”

 

Yuutarou looked at Kunimi. An internship was one thing. Back when they had accepted Yoshikawa’s offer it had seemed like a fun idea. Yuutarou had fully expected someone to swoop in and buy the spell off of them eventually. But this?

 

The Magic High Council oversaw the creation of all official spells. If it was in the schoolbooks, if it was used in any official capacity, if it was anything other than a scribble in a cottage witch’s grimoire, it went through the Council. The thought of them seeing something with Yuutarou’s name on it was baffling, to say the least.

 

“We’ll need to think about it,” Kunimi said. His hand was still on Yuutarou’s arm. “It’s a big decision.”

 

“Of course,” said Yasufumi-sensei. “Take all the time you need. Come talk to me next week and we’ll decide what we’re going to do.” She gave them a smile that felt somehow familiar, then turned and walked off to talk to Kuroda and Miyoshi. Yuutarou turned to find Kunimi already looking back at him.

 

“So,” Yuutarou said. Kunimi nodded.

 

“So.”

 

“The Magic High Council,” Yuutarou breathed.

 

“I don’t think we should talk about that here,” Kunimi said. “It’s about time to go home. Let’s grab some dinner and talk there.”

 

Yuutaoru nodded. “Okay,” he said, suddenly nervous. “Sounds good.” Kunimi rolled his eyes and tugged him by the hand toward the exit. They dropped their badges off with Ogata at the reception desk and made their way out of Yoshikawa headquarters still attached at the hand.

 

They stopped at the ramen stall not far from their apartment and got the unhealthiest takeout they could. The bag bumped against Yuutaoru’s thigh as he walked, a constant counter to the rhythm of his thoughts. When they reached the apartment building Kunimi dragged him right past their floor and up to the roof.

 

“Are we even allowed to be up here?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi only shrugged and let go of Yuutarou’s hand to prop the door open with a loose brick.

 

Allowed or not, there were a couple of rickety old chairs up on the roof, and a neglected potted plant. Yuutarou touched a leaf and fed it magic until it was perky and green once more. Kunimi smiled at him, leaning against the half-wall surrounding the roof.

 

“You’re too good for the Council,” he said.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Yuutarou laughed. Kunimi sighed and turned to look out over the rooftops around them. There was something untouchable about him then, something that knew sadness deeper than Yuutarou could ever imagine. Yuutarou felt the echo of that sadness in himself. Kunimi was so beautiful, lit from below by the streetlights.

 

“Just that you’re too good a person. They’ll chew you up and spit you out.” Kunimi’s voice was bitter. “They like to take good people and ruin them.”

 

Yuutarou came and leaned against the wall next to him. “What makes you say that?” he asked. He wondered how much of the world Kunimi had seen that Yuutarou hadn’t.

 

“Aoba Jousai kids are answerable to the Council,” Kunimi sighed. “They oversee our education, make sure we’re not growing too powerful. There was this… incident with Kageyama. It wasn’t pretty.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Yuutarou said.

 

Kunimi shook his head. “I couldn’t protect him,” he said. “It’s stupid, but I want to protect you. I don’t want you to go through what he did. Even though the circumstances are so different. I’m terrified that they’ll hurt another person I love.”

 

Yuutarou’s heart jolted at the word. He knew there was more to what Kunimi was saying than just that one piece, but he couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears. Of course Kunimi loved him. They had established that they were friends a dozen times over. Kunimi wasn’t shy in admitting his affections. They were friends, only friends.

 

“If you aren’t comfortable presenting the spell, I won’t make you,” Yuutarou said.

 

Kunimi laughed humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t even be the same people. This would be a totally different department of the Council, some under-agency that oversees spell creation. But I’m terrified.”

 

“So we won’t do it,” Yuutarou said with a shrug. “Like Yasufumi-sensei said. We’ll know it works and move on with our lives.”

 

“Is that what you want?” Kunimi asked.

 

“Is it what _you_ want?”

 

“I don’t know what I want.” Kunimi was looking at Yuutarou now, and Yuutarou was struck by how very close they were. He could have leaned down and kissed Kunimi then, easy as breathing. Kunimi bit his lip and Yuutarou was so very tempted.

 

“We’ve got some time to think,” Yuutarou said, perhaps a little too loud and a little too strained. “We don’t have to make a decision tonight.”

 

“You’re right,” said Kunimi, looking away. “We have time.” Yuutaoru got the feeling they were talking about two different things now. He blinked and opened his mouth to say _something_ to fix whatever mistake he had made, but Kunimi turned back to him with a bored look. “We should eat, before it gets cold,” he said.

 

“Right,” said Yuutarou. “The food.” Kunimi stepped away from the wall, but Yuutarou lingered a moment longer. He turned to look out over the rooftops and let his heart ache. Then he shook off the feeling and turned to join Kunimi.

 

For a long while, they ate in silence. Then Kunimi looked up abruptly and said, “I think we should do it.”

 

“Do what?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“Present the spell. Or find someone who can present it for us. Whatever.” Yuutarou blinked.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “We can think about it some more, or-”

 

“I’m sure,” Kunimi said firmly. “Imagine what this spell will do for your grad school applications. And I guess for the rest of the world or whatever.”

 

“Kunimi-”

 

“I want to see this through,” Kunimi said softly. “I want to finish what we started.”

 

“Do you want to present it to the Council, or do you want to find someone who will present it for us?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“It’s our spell,” Kunimi said. “If we do pass it off I want it to be to someone who’ll keep our names on it. I don’t want all the work you’ve put into this to go to waste.”

 

“I don’t think it will,” Yuutarou said. “Even if we never get any credit for it, the fact that it’s out there can mean a lot for a lot of people. You know what I mean?” Kunimi looked at him with a strange light in his eyes. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Kunimi said, but he kept looking.

 

“You’re staring at me,” Yuutarou said. He could feel his cheeks grow hot and his hands start to tremble. Everything felt fuzzy and warm, like an old romance movie. Kunimi was still looking at him.

 

“You’re just cute,” Kunimi said. “All that heroism and self-sacrifice. Making a better world for the sake of the people living in it, and keeping nothing for yourself. It’s admirable.”

 

“I’m just being honest,” Yuutarou said.

 

“I know you are. That’s what makes it so impressive.” The light finally faded from Kunimi’s eyes, leaving behind amusement and affection. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said.

 

“What kind of deal?” asked Yuutarou, growing wary.

 

“You keep on being the selfless humanitarian and I’ll be your greedy and your impolite. You change the world, and I’ll make sure you get the recognition you deserve for it.” Kunimi was smiling, a small and secret smile that Yuutaoru got the feeling was only meant for him.

 

“And what about the recognition you deserve?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi’s smile softened.

 

“I already have it,” he said. “You are all the recognition I need.”

 

Yuutarou was blushing. He could feel his cheeks and ears and the back of his neck turning bright red. Kunimi was smiling at him, a small and secret smile, and telling him that he was all Kunimi needed. The glow from the streetlights below was lighting Kunimi in gold and white and red. He looked like some faerie spirit come to haunt Yuutarou’s dreams, too beautiful for the waking world and too cruel for a fantasy.

 

“It’s getting late,” Kunimi said, quietly, like it was a secret between them.

 

“Yeah,” Yuutarou said. “We should probably head downstairs.”

 

“We should,” Kunimi agreed. They stared at each other for a long moment. Kunimi opened his mouth as though to say something, but before he could he turned and walked away. Yuutarou stayed a moment to gather his thoughts from where they had flown a thousand different directions before he stood and followed. That night, lying in his bed, he stared at the ceiling and thought of how beautiful Kunimi had looked. The spell had worked because their bond had strengthened somehow. There had to be something to that, something he wasn’t quite understanding. Something he may never fully understand.

 

He fell asleep with fire dancing in his mind.

 

-

 

Akira was lost in a world of color and light and the scent of green magic. Kindaichi was laughing, holding on to Akira’s wrist and tugging him from booth to booth. He had won a goldfish and eaten more food than Akira had believed possible. He was having the time of his life, while Akira was content just to watch him. The sun went down and the shortest night of the year began with the sound of Kindaichi giggling at his own joke.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Kindaichi asked. They were sitting on a bench on the beach behind the festival booths, listening to the sound of the crowd while Kindaichi ate yet some more. Akira shook his head.

 

“I’m enjoying you,” he said.

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“I mean, I’m enjoying being with you,” Akira said. “I’m enjoying being your friend again.”

 

“Oh.” Kindaichi blushed, a rather pretty color. He looked out at the ocean. “I’m enjoying being your friend too,” he said.

 

“You don’t have to sound so sad about it,” said Akira.

 

“I know,” sighed Kindaichi. “I just know you’re still planning on leaving again.”

 

“I don’t know what I’m planning,” said Akira. “Right now I’m not thinking too hard about it.”

 

“I wish you would stay.” Kindaichi’s voice was quiet and small, smaller than Akira had ever heard it. It was easy to forget sometimes, beneath all the bluster and the noise, that Kindaichi was a fragile soul. Akira reached out to rest his hand on Kindaichi’s.

 

Kindaichi flinched away.

 

“I’m sorry,” Akira whispered. “I’m sorry for all of this. If I could go back and change it I would, but I can’t.”

 

“I don’t want you to change the past, Akira,” said Kindaichi. “I just want you to choose your future. I want you to choose the future with me in it.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Akira said. “You know this is killing me, right? I don’t want to leave you behind, but it’s what’s best for you.”

 

“What’s best or what’s easiest?” Kindaichi looked at Akira with a sad smile. “Sorry,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

 

Akira’s response died on his tongue. He would have given anything to never see Kindaichi smile like that again, so devoid of the life and color that usually poured out of him. But anything he could have said would only have made it worse. So he shut his mouth and nodded.

 

“What should we do-” Akira cut off as a strange look passed over Kindaichi’s face. His expression contorted rapidly, then all at once went blank. He stared at the sea. “Kindaichi?” whispered Akira.

 

Kindaichi opened his mouth and the ground began to tremble. Akira’s heart sank as Kindaichi turned to him and said, “Afraid of what will happen if you stay. Afraid of what will happen if you go. Terrified of what will happen if you do neither, or both. You are afraid.” Kindaichi’s voice was flat and monotone, a blank report of the thoughts in Akira’s head devoid of emotion or bias.

 

“I am afraid,” Akira agreed as he pulled out his phone and fired off a text to Oikawa. “I’m afraid of a lot of things.”

 

“You’re afraid of me,” said Kindaichi, and for a moment his voice was normal.

 

“I’m afraid of what’s happening,” Akira said. Kindaichi looked at him with a fevered light in his eyes.

 

“Me too,” he whispered, and then his expression dropped again and the ground shook harder.

 

“Kindaichi,” said Akira, trying to keep the fear from his voice. “I need you to work with me. I can help you, but you need to let me in first.”

 

“You’re so protective of him,” Kindaichi said. “You want to get this over with before they show up, so he won’t get hurt. You were never that protective of me.”

 

“You know that’s not true,” Akira whispered.

 

“You never loved me the way you love him. I’ve always annoyed you.” Kindaichi was trembling now, or maybe it was the ground shaking the bench, or maybe it was Akira. Kindaichi’s eyes were wide and panicked and his voice was unsteady. “I was just a phase, a stepping stone until you found someone better.”

 

“That’s not true!” Akira cried. “You know that’s not true! It destroyed me to leave you, you know it did!” Around them, bits of dust began to swirl through the air.

 

“I would have done anything for you!” Kindaichi said. “You were home that day, when I came by after the benchmark exam. You hid from me! You ran away, you wouldn’t even talk to me!” The bench began to rattle ominously. “You would never run away from him,” Kindaichi said. “I can see it, how loyal you are to him. How you would do anything for him.”

 

“Because I can’t do it for you!” cried Akira. There was a noise like the very earth tearing itself apart. The dust swirled thicker and thicker and Akira could feel the pressure of telekinetic force pushing down on him. Kageyama’s magic was manifesting. If it went on much longer, it would destroy everything around them. “Kindaichi, please,” Akira pleaded. “Let me help you.”

 

Kindaichi opened his mouth, that same dead look in his eye, but before he could say anything a light flooded the beach, blinding Akira. When he blinked the spots from his vision again, it was to find Oikawa standing over the bench, bathed in light and sweat.

 

“Well then,” he said, his voice strained with effort. “Looks like you two have gotten yourselves into a pickle.”

 

“We need to do the spell,” Akira said. “Tonight. We can’t wait any longer.”

 

“All right then,” said Iwaizumi, stepping around Oikawa to wrap his arms around Kindaichi. He heaved him up off the bench and over one shoulder. “Were do we do this?”

 

“On the beach,” said Akira. “As far away from people as we can get.” Iwaizumi nodded and set off into the night.

 

-*-


	49. Chapter 49

Kunimi burst into Yuutarou’s room late Saturday morning in a panic. He stood breathing hard with his back to the door and stared at Yuutarou.

 

“What’s wrong?” asked Yuutarou, throwing the covers back and sitting up. Kunimi looked down at the phone in his hand and shook his head.

 

“My mother,” he gasped. He took a deep breath. “My mother wants to have brunch with us.”

 

“Okay…” said Yuutarou. “I don’t see how that’s a bad thing, but-”

 

“It isn’t.” Kunimi straightened, his panic falling away to be replaced by the old steel wall in his eyes. “Does today work, or should I tell her tomorrow?”

 

“Today’s fine,” said Yuutarou. Kunimi nodded and left, leaving Yuutarou to stare blankly at the door. He reappeared a few moments later with a sheepish look on his face.

 

“Sorry,” he said. Yuutarou shook his head.

 

“It’s a bit sudden, but nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Why does she want to have brunch all of a sudden?”

 

Kunimi made a face. “She’s in town,” he said. “Something about her job or something. But she has some free time and she wanted to know if we could meet up. She, um…” Kunimi blushed and looked away. “She’s heard a lot about you.”

 

“Oh.” Yuutarou wondered what kinds of things Kunimi could possible have told his mother about him. He hoped they were good things. For some reason, he desperately wanted her to like him. “So what time does she want to meet us?”

 

Kunimi made a face. “Half an hour,” he said. Yuutarou nodded and closed his book.

 

“Let me just get dressed then,” he said. Kunimi nodded, but seemed to hesitate. He opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head and disappeared again. Yuutarou watched the door for a moment to see if he would return, but it stayed closed. He shrugged to himself and threw the covers off.

 

Twenty-six minutes later, Yuutarou held the door to the restaurant open for Kunimi to walk through first. His phone buzzed as he stepped through behind him, and he fished it out with a frown.

 

OIKAWA-SAN (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･✧: [If Tobio, Ushiwaka, and I ever have kids, I want a girl named Akemi and a boy named Shiro.]

 

Yuutarou rolled his eyes.

 

ME: [I’m too busy to properly make fun of you for this, but give me a couple of hours and I’ll come up with a good insult.]

 

He almost ran into Kunimi’s back when he stopped at a table. “Kindaichi,” said Kunimi, sounding nervous, “this is my mom. Mom, this is my roommate, Kindaichi.” Yuutarou looked up to see a pretty woman with long black hair smiling up at him. His thoughts ground to a halt.

 

“Kunimi-san,” he said slowly. “I remember you.”

 

And he did. He remembered the woman who had lived a few blocks away from him growing up, the ice elemental with a wicked-sharp tongue and a warm heart. He had spent time at her house, a lot of time. He just couldn’t remember why. He had no idea she had a son.

 

“What do you mean, you remember me?” She looked at Kunimi, something unreadable in her eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve met.

 

“No, I _remember_ you,” he said. “Your birthday is February third. You’re not a great cook, but the tea you make is always delicious. You moved away during my first year of middle school. I don’t remember why, though.” He looked at Kunimi. “Why do I remember your mother, but not you?” he asked.

 

“I-” Kunimi stared at him, mouth agape. “You can’t remember her,” he whispered.

 

“I think it’s best if I go,” said Kunimi-san, standing. “It was good to see you again, Akira. Call me when you have time.” Before Yuutarou could open his mouth to protest, she was gone, sweeping out of the shop with all the lazy grace he had come to know from her son. He stared after her a moment, then whirled around on Kunimi.

 

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Was that really your mom?”

 

“Of course that was really my mom,” Kunimi snapped. “Why would I bring a fake mom to meet you?”

 

“I don’t know!” Yuutarou cried. “I have no idea what’s going on here!”

 

“Okay.” Kunimi’s voice filled with a forced calm. “Okay we can figure this out.” He sat down and gestured for Yuutarou to join him. Yuutarou hesitated for a moment before he obeyed. “When you say you remember her, what do you mean?” Kunimi asked.

 

“I mean I remember her,” Yuutarou said with a shrug. “I don’t really get the question.”

 

“I mean, do you just remember facts about her? Or do you have actual, solid memories of her?”

 

An image flashed in Yuutarou’s mind, of Kunimi-san smiling at him. She looked younger in the memory, her hair less grey and her skin smoother.

 

“I remember her,” he whispered. “I fell out of a tree once and she took me to the hospital. I remember that day, like I remember any other day.”

 

Kunimi was quiet for a long time. He refused to make eye-contact with Yuutarou, staring instead at the tablecloth. At last he sighed heavily and looked up. “You need to talk to Oikawa-san,” he said. “And I need to talk to Kageyama. And we need to not talk to each other for a while.”

 

“What are you-”

 

“I’m sorry,” Kunimi interrupted. He stood and gave Yuutarou a sad smile. “This is the only thing I can think of doing. Talk to Oikawa-san. Tell him what happened today, and tell him he knows how to find me if he needs to. And hopefully I’ll see you again soon.”

 

“Kunimi, wait-” But Kunimi was gone, sweeping out of the restaurant the same way his mother had. Yuutarou wanted to follow, but he was pinned in place by confusion and the heady weight of the day’s revelations. A waiter walked up to the table with a smile.

 

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked. Yuutarou shook his head slowly.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but I don’t think you can.”

 

-

 

Oikawa answered the door before Yuutarou could knock. He pulled Yuutarou inside and started digging through the turmoil in his mind, looking for its cause while Yuutarou tugged off his shoes. They were almost to the living room when Oikawa found it.

 

“How can you remember her but not him?” he asked.

 

“That’s my question exactly,” said Yuutarou. “Kunimi said he was going to talk to Kageyama, and that if you needed him you knew how to find him. But he made it pretty clear he didn’t want to talk to me about any of this.”

 

“I think we should look into this one,” Oikawa said. “Iwa-chan should be home any minute to babysit us. Do you want any tea while we wait?”

 

Oikawa got up before Yuutarou could answer verbally and started poking around in the kitchen. Yuutarou flopped back on the couch just as the door opened and Iwaizumi came in.

 

“Kindaichi,” he greeted. Yuutarou nodded.

 

“Iwa-chan!” shouted Oikawa from the kitchen. “I need you to make sure Kindaichi and I don’t lose all brain function for half an hour or so.”

 

“Why? You just practiced on Wednesday.” Oikawa reappeared with three mugs in his hands and passed them out. He flopped onto the couch with a bounce.

 

“Kindaichi remembers Kunimi’s mom from when he was a kid, but not Kunimi,” said Oikawa. “We’re gonna figure out why.” Iwaizumi’s eyes widened and he sat down slowly. “Iwa-chan?”

 

“Nothing,” said Iwaizumi. “It’s just weird. Sounds scary.”

 

“It is,” Yuutarou agreed.

 

“Okay then,” said Oikawa, leaning forward and setting his mug on the coffee table. “Let’s get this over with.” Yuutarou set his own mug down and watched Iwaizumi pull up a timer on his phone. Oikawa waited until he nodded, then took Yuutarou’s hand. All at once, the living room faded away and Yuutarou’s eighteenth birthday popped into existence.

 

“How do you want to start?” Yuutarou asked.

 

“Let’s take a walk,” suggested Oikawa. “We’ll start with your memories of your childhood, then get into your memories of her, and then we’ll see where to go from there.”

 

Yuutarou nodded and stood, following Oikawa out of the restaurant. They walked backwards through his memories, flashing like pictures on a television screen through the windows on the storefronts. There was high school, and Tsukishima and Hinata. There were the lonely years of middle school, when Yuutarou had no one. There was his childhood home, and the forest by his house. And then all at once, there was Kunimi-san. It was the memory of the day he’d nearly broken his arm, the day she had taken him to the hospital.

 

“I don’t remember why I was climbing the tree,” Yuutarou said with a frown. “Just that I needed to get to the top for some reason.” He looked at the store front, but the picture seemed blurry somehow. Like there was something that was supposed to be there, but someone had gone and painted over it. Yuutarou squinted, then shook his head.

 

“These memories are all strange like that,” Oikawa said. He held Yuutarou’s hand a little tighter and they walked on. “It’s like something’s missing from all of them, but it’s too neatly removed to tell what it is.”

 

“Like someone went and made a hole in my memories,” Yuutarou said. “And then put up blocks so that I wouldn’t fall into them, or look too closely.” Oikawa nodded, his face grim. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” Yuutarou said. “Why would he take memories of my childhood?”

 

“I don’t know,” Oikawa said. “If I ever knew, I’ve forgotten. But one thing’s for sure, he took them. I don’t know of anyone else powerful enough to do it this cleanly.”

 

Yuutarou looked at a window projecting a view of his childhood home. He squatted in the yard, a determined look on his face as he grew a dahlia. It sprouted a beautiful dark purple, but the younger Yuutarou frowned at it, displeased. He started again. There was a reason he had been growing those dahlias, someone he had meant to give them to, but he couldn’t remember who. He held Oikawa’s hand a little tighter. The hole in his memories had a shape now.

 

“I knew Kunimi,” he said quietly. “I mean, I _knew_ him, we were friends.”

 

“It would appear that way,” Oikawa agreed.

 

“Why would I forget someone who was my friend?” he asked. “And why wouldn’t Kunimi say anything?” Distantly, he could hear a timer beeping and feel a hand on his shoulder. “Oikawa-san, I’m scared,” he said.

 

“I am too, Kindaichi,” said Oikawa. He began the process of pulling them out of Yuutarou’s mind. The living room reappeared, feeling just slightly too real for all the revelations Yuutarou had made that day. He pulled his knees to his chest and tucked his arms around them. “Iwa-chan?” said Oikawa.

 

“I can’t,” said Iwaizumi. “You know who you have to talk to.” He gave them a guilty look, then stood and walked with deliberate slowness into his room. The door closed behind him with a grim finality.

 

“Oikawa-san,” said Yuutarou, but Oikawa already had his phone out and pressed to his ear.

 

“Tobio-chan,” he said. “Yes, we found it. No, I want you over here now. Yes, he’s still here. Okay.” Oikawa hung up his phone and looked at Yuutarou. “We’re going to find some answers at last,” he promised. Yuutarou only nodded and hoped he was right.

 

-

 

Iwaizumi set Kindaichi down on the beach with a grunt and Akira threw himself down in front of him. He grabbed both of Kindaichi’s hands and squeezed them tight, but Kindaichi didn’t acknowledge him.

 

“Oikawa-san, let him go,” said Akira.

 

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” asked Oikawa. His voice was shaking.

 

“No,” said Akira. “But I know it has to start with me. I’m the connection, I’m the first link.”

 

“Let him go, Oikawa-san,” said Kageyama. With a grunt, Oikawa collapsed to the ground. Kindaichi sat up, his black eyes roving wildly for a moment before they locked on Akira. The ground began to tremble again.

 

“Kunimi,” whispered Kindaichi. Akira gave him a weak smile.

 

“Let me in,” he said. “Take me to the field with the flowers. We’ll make this right from there.” Kindaichi nodded and squeezed Akira’s hands. All at once the beach faded away and the flower-filled field took its place. A great crack ran through the ground between Akira and Kindaichi.

 

“So what now?” asked Kindaichi. Akira stepped closer and the world shook.

 

“I don’t know,” Akira said. “I don’t have the page the priestess gave me. I don’t know the ritual.”

 

“They said we had to mend the broken bonds and draw the magic back along the lines of fate,” Kindaichi said. “I don’t think we need the focusing circle for that.”

 

“What bonds though?” asked Akira.

 

“The one between us,” said Kindaichi. “I think we already started on it, but we have to air out what happened between us before the magic can pass to you. We need to close this rift.” As if to give credence to his words, the world shook again and the crack in the ground widened.

 

“Okay,” whispered Akira. He looked around. “I don’t know where to start.”

 

“I do,” said Kindaichi, reluctantly. “I’m mad at you, Akira.”

 

“Kindaichi, I don’t think now is the time to-”

 

“No, that’s what I’m saying,” Kindaichi interrupted. “Now is exactly the time to pull all that out. I can’t mend our bond yet, because I haven’t forgiven you for hiding from me.”

 

“What do you mean?” A sinking feeling flooded Akira’s stomach, and he knew exactly what Kindaichi was talking about.

 

“The day you left,” Kindaichi said, and the crack filled with a memory. “I knew you were home. But you wouldn’t answer the door. I didn’t know how to make you come out and face me, so I left. I didn’t think you would run away that same day.”

 

Kindaichi was standing outside the door to Akira’s childhood home, watching the windows. He heard the faintest sound of movement inside, but no one came to the door. His knocks, his cries for Akira, were ignored, after everything. He turned away, certain he would try again the next day. But when the next day came, he had knocked on the door and no one had answered, it had been a different silence. An emptier one. Akira had already left.

 

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” Kindaichi said. “Do you know what that felt like?”

 

“I didn’t think it would hurt this badly,” Akira said. Kindaichi’s pain tore through him like a hot knife and he shivered. “It wasn’t easy for me either, though,” he said.

 

“I know it wasn’t.” Kindaichi slumped. “But it was easier for you. You had Kageyama-”

 

“I had nothing when I first left,” Akira said. “Yeah, I got lucky. Kageyama turned out to be a good friend to me. But before that I lost everything too.”

 

The memory in the crack flickered to the first night at Aoba Jousai, the night when Kageyama’s nightmare had shaken Akira’s bed so hard he’d fallen out. He had curled into a ball on the floor and sobbed as quietly as he could, lost and alone in a strange place. Kindaichi stared at him from across the crack and his heart broke where the echoes of Akira’s pain brushed against it.

 

“I guess we’re both screwed up,” Akira whispered. “I hurt both of us. I’m sorry.”

 

“There’s still time to make it right,” Kindaichi said. Akira let out a sob.

 

“I wish that were true,” he cried. “I wish I could make it all better, and just go back to the way things were. But I already took us too far.”

 

“So we make a new path.” Akira looked up to see Kindaichi holding his hand out, that familiar, dorky grin plastered across his face. “You can’t go back to the way things were before, and I can’t move forward like the past never happened. So what if we do something in between?”

 

“Like what?” Akira found himself smiling fondly, stepping over the crack like it was nothing at all and taking Kindaichi’s hand. As soon as their fingers touched, the world shook and the crack began to mend itself. The field blossomed with dahlias and Kindaichi smiled.

 

“Like we have been the last few days,” he said. “We don’t have to act like we never knew one another, you know. We can be friends.”

 

“Friends,” Akira repeated. It sounded wonderful and horrid at the same time. Now that he had admitted, to the both of them, how he felt, he wasn’t sure if he could go back to being just friends.

 

“I don’t know if I can be anything more,” Kindaichi said. Akira nodded.

 

“I would never ask you for something you couldn’t give me,” he said. “I’ll work it out in time.” The last of the fissure closed and Akira and Kindaichi stood side-by-side.

 

All at once, the world imploded around Akira. His hand wrenched out of Kindaichi’s and the field faded away into darkness. He trembled under a weight that pushed down on him, shoving him to the sand. Power coursed through his veins, hot and terrifying, and his mind filled with panicked voices. A pair of hands clasped his shoulders.

 

“It’s okay,” said Kageyama, both out loud and in Akira’s mind. “It’s going to be okay. Just find the beach for me.”

 

Akira struggled to do as he was told. He dug through the noise and the pressure, looking for the sound of windchimes. The hands squeezed him tighter and he reached out for the mind attached to them, desperate.

 

“It’s all your fault,” he whispered, and Kageyama surged backward.

 

-*-


	50. Chapter 50

Something was bothering Oikawa. He paced back and forth across his living room, chewing on one thumbnail. He was dressed in his boxers and an old sweatshirt that probably belonged to Iwaizumi, the same clothes he had opened the door in. Normally, he would have taken the time to get dressed, or at least put his binder on with Kageyama coming over. Of course, it wasn’t the first time, but Oikawa had been all about appearances lately. Yuutarou cast about for something to draw him out of his thoughts, anything at all.

 

“When did _you_ first meet Kunimi?” Yuutarou asked after a long moment. Oikawa shrugged and did not stop pacing.

 

“It’s always been a little hazy for me,” he said. “I’ve known him for as long as I’ve been reconnected with Tobio-chan. So, somewhere around my first year of high school?” He shook his head. “Anyway, Tobio should be here any minu-” Oikawa cut himself off, looking toward the entryway.

 

The moment Kageyama arrived, a wave of light exploded into the apartment. Yuutarou reeled back to stare at Oikawa, who watched the door with teeth gritted.

 

“All right,” he said, his voice strained, “I guess we’re not getting answers right now.” The door opened and Kageyama stepped into the flat.

 

“Tooru,” he said casually, though Yuutarou could see the way his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

 

“Tobio,” said Oikawa in the same tone of voice. “What are you doing?”

 

“Protecting you,” answered Kageyama. “Protecting all three of you.”

 

“The two of us and who? Kunimi-chan? I don’t think he needs protecting.” Kageyama shook his head.

 

“He needs more than even he realizes,” he said. “I’m only trying to do what you asked me to do.”

 

“I asked you for answers,” said Oikawa.

 

“I can’t give them to you.” The room grew brighter and began to tremble. Yuutarou glanced toward the hall leading to Iwaizumi’s room.

 

“Don’t worry about Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa. “Tobio’s not after him. He gets to keep all his memories.”

 

“He gets to keep more than that,” said Kageyama. “He’s the only other one who knows. You’re the one who made it that way.”

 

“I didn’t choose any of this,” Oikawa snapped. “You’re the one who came here and started leeching memories away.”

 

“Because you asked me to!” Kageyama cried. “Everyone asked me to carry this, by myself! You have no idea what it was like on that beach!”

 

“What beach?” asked Yuutarou. Kageyama shook his head. On the table, the trio of forgotten mugs began to rattle. “Kageyama, just tell me why you took my memories of Kunimi.”

 

“I didn’t,” Kageyama said. “They were gone by the time I got to you. I just cleaned up the edges and tried to keep you from triggering them. Everyone else is making that difficult for me.”

 

“Tobio, you’re the only one powerful enough to leave that hole,” said Oikawa. “It reeks of you.”

 

“I told you, I didn’t do it,” Kageyama snarled. “I took Kunimi’s. He came to my room and begged me to take them away from him, so that he wouldn’t hurt Kindaichi anymore. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? Don’t tell anyone, Kageyama, or you’ll hurt Kindaichi. Stay away from the shrine, Kageyama, or you’ll hurt Kindaichi. Pretend, pretend, don’t say anything, hold it all inside, or Kindaichi will get hurt. No one ever thinks of Kunimi.”

 

“Because I don’t remember him!” Yuutarou cried. “How am I supposed to protect him when I can’t remember what I’m protecting him from?”

 

“You’re protecting him from you!” Kageyama said. “I tried to warn him not to get too close, but when has he ever listened to me? And now he’s gotten himself hurt and there’s no one to blame but me.”

 

“He’s just as much to blame, Tobio,” said Oikawa said softly. Kageyama looked at him, and for a moment everything went still. Then the lights grew brighter and Oikawa started to tremble. “Sweetheart, we both know how this is going to end.” Oikawa’s voice was sad.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Tooru.” Kageyama’s voice cracked.

 

“And I won’t let you hurt Kindaichi,” replied Oikawa. The walls began to shake and the lights grew brighter still. For a moment, Yuutarou could see the landscape they were battling on, an empty dance floor Yuutarou recognized from Oikawa’s birthday party a few years before. It was lit unnaturally by Oikawa’s effort, casting sharp shadows that writhed and danced like sentient things. Then all at once the lights began to flicker.

 

“I can’t do this,” Kageyama whispered. His hands relaxed at his sides. Oikawa slumped to the ground in a heap, his lights flickering uneasily around him. Yuutarou dropped to his knees and wrapped an arm around Oikawa’s shoulder, steadying him.

 

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

 

“Fine,” Oikawa said, a bit unsteadily. “I wouldn’t have been after another minute or so, but I am now.” He looked up at Kageyama. “Why did you let me go?”

 

“Why do you think?” asked Kageyama, shrugging. “Believe it or not, I don’t want to hurt anyone here. Least of all you, Tooru.” He looked at Kindaichi, something sad in his eyes. “I don’t have your memories,” he said. “I wasn’t the one who took them. If you want them back, you’re going to have to go to the place where you lost them.”

 

“How am I supposed to do that?” Yuutarou asked. “I have no idea where that could be.”

 

“I don’t know,” Kageyama said. “I couldn’t fix this before, and I can’t fix it now. But maybe you can. You found Kunimi again after all this time. Maybe you can find yourself too.” Yuutarou nodded and stood. Oikawa caught his hand and gave it a squeeze before letting it drop again. Yuutarou let that encouragement fill his veins and squared his shoulders.

 

“When I get back, we’re having a long talk about this,” he said.

 

“Can’t wait,” said Kageyama. His eyes were on Oikawa. Yuutarou took that as his queue to go and stepped carefully out of the living room. He paused in the doorway, bending to re-tie his shoes.

 

“Are we okay?” Oikawa asked quietly. Yuutarou leaned around the corner to see him sitting where he had left him, arms wrapped tight around himself. Kageyama stood awkwardly in front of him.

 

“I should be asking you that,” Kageyama said. “I’m the one who-”

 

“No, I get why you did it,” Oikawa said. “I’d do the same thing if it were Kindaichi. We agreed not to get in the way of each other’s partnerships.”

 

“So, are we okay?” Kageyama asked. Oikawa said nothing, only opened his arms. Kageyama let out a relieved noise and threw himself to the ground beside Oikawa. Yuutarou turned away as they drew each other into their arms. He finished tying his shoe and left as quietly as he could.

 

Kageyama had told him to go to the place where he’d lost the memories in the first place, but he had no idea where that could be. All he had was the hole, and the shape of it. Yuutarou let himself wander, waiting for inspiration to come and strike him like it never did when he most needed it. He let his mind wander to his memories of Kunimi’s mother, to their end in his first year of middle school. There was more missing after that, another six months or so before the loneliness and the meeting of Hinata and Tsukishima. Six months would have put him in summer, the first year he had spent at his aunt’s house. He couldn’t remember anything about that summer, but he remembered coming home from it. If he had to start anywhere, it might as well be there.

 

The station was crowded with the lunchtime rush and for a moment, Yuutarou was so overwhelmed by the throng that he forgot what he was doing. It was difficult, holding on to the absence of something. But he pressed on, bought his ticket and found his platform. The train was due to depart any minute, so he got on and found a seat as quickly as he could. It was summer, and there wasn’t a lot of room on a Saturday afternoon headed to a beach town. Yuutarou counted himself lucky to find a single seat next to the window. He turned his face to the glass and tried to find the exact end of his memories.

 

There were no portals on this line, so it was nearly a two hour ride. Yuutarou pulled out his phone, hoping to check in on Kunimi or Oikawa, but he hadn’t charged it the night before. The screen stared blankly up at him as though judging him for all his life choices. He stuffed it into the bottom of his bag and pulled out his sketchbook instead. He flipped through it idly, not really looking for anything in particular. His fingers stalled on a page filled with dahlias.

 

He could remember growing them outside his childhood home, trying to get them exactly right. He had been going for a specific color, one that had meant something for the person he was giving it to. Kunimi had a dahlia pressed between the pages of a book, one he had said his best friend had grown him. They must have been the same flower, grown to help Kunimi through something he had been going through. Yuutarou shook his head, trying desperately to clear the fog around the memory. He didn’t realize how long he sat there, staring at the page, until the train trundled to a stop and he jolted out of the memory. He climbed out of his seat and off the train in a rush, standing on the platform and looking around.

 

The beach town was exactly how Yuutarou remembered it from the summer before. Tourists crowded the areas around the beach and the station, and all along the street lined with shops between the two. People shouted happily as they went about their lives, heedless of Yuutarou’s turmoil. He stepped off the station platform and looked around. There was no point in going to his aunt’s house; a family reunion would only cost him time. There was no way he was about to explain the situation to her, not when all it would earn him was another lecture on the dangers of hanging around with psychics. The beach seemed equally unlikely, if only because he knew it would be too full of tourists to offer him any answers or the peace with which to find them. Distantly, on the wind, he could hear the sound of windchimes and smell something floral in the air. He shook his head.

 

Over the years, he had been everywhere in this small town. The shops, the beach, the residential areas, he had seen it all. And yet he still had no memories of his first trip here. Which told him that the place he needed to go was the last place he would have gone before. He looked up at the hill that hid the ancient shrine his aunt had told him so many stories about. He wasn’t exactly dressed for a hike, but it would have to do for now. He had no other ideas.

 

He pulled his bag a little higher up his shoulder and began to walk.

 

-

 

Kageyama’s magic was a heady thing. It coursed through Akira’s veins like molten steel, leaving him breathless and dizzy. He looked at Kageyama and he could see everything he was thinking, all his fears and his hopes and the things he didn’t even realize about himself. He found himself picking one up and looking at it more closely.

 

“It’s all your fault,” he said, and Kageyama surged backward.

 

“Don’t,” Kageyama whispered. Akira barely heard him, too busy marveling at his newfound ability.

 

“All your fault,” he repeated. “That day at the carnival. You could have controlled it, could have brought it under your thumb. But you didn’t. You let him get hurt, let him be crippled by your new power. It was a rush.”

 

“Stop,” Kageyama sobbed. Akira ignored him.

 

“If you’d stretched just a little bit farther, if you’d realized just a little bit earlier, you would’ve been able to save him. But you didn’t! And now you know why no one ever trusts you. Why none of your friends would stay with you through the night. Oh sure, they claim they love you, but they all look at you like they’re just a little bit afraid. Because they are, you know they are.” Akira giggled, giddy with power. He turned his focus to the left, where Oikawa and Iwaizumi were clumped awkwardly around Kindaichi’s slumped form. He zeroed in on Oikawa, on the horrified look on his face. But just as he began to dig, he ran into a wall.

 

“Nice try, little one,” said Oikawa, “but you’ve got not idea how to use that weapon. Now, why don’t you let Tobio take his magic back, so we can all be on our way?”

 

Something about Oikawa’s voice cut through the fog in Akira’s mind. He whipped his head around to look at Kageyama, horrified at what he had done. Kageyama only met his gaze steadily, holding his hands out in offering.

 

“Kageyama, I-”

 

“There’s no time,” Kageyama interrupted. “We have to go.” Akira nodded and dropped his hands into Kageyama’s. All at once, the beach faded away and the sound of windchimes filled the air.

 

The ocean in front of Kageyama’s grandfather’s house was as still as it always was. Akira looked out at its endlessness and felt the echo of it in his own soul. He turned away, unable to bear it any longer, and found Kageyama standing a few feet away. The soft earth between them was torn asunder.

 

This time, the fissure was narrower than before. Akira bent and touched his fingertips to the edge of it.

 

“I don’t know how to fix this one,” he said. “I don’t have any secrets to work through with you.”

 

“I don’t think I have anything to keep from you either,” Kageyama said. Akira sighed in relief. It had been so long since he had heard Kageyama’s voice in his head that he had begun to forget what it had felt like.

 

“I miss you,” said Akira. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to reach you like this. I missed it.”

 

“More than you missed him?” Kageyama’s voice was small. “I can’t imagine you wanting me more than you want him.”

 

“Kageyama what are you talking about?” asked Akira. Kageyama gave him a sad smile.

 

“You love him,” he said. “In a way you can never love me.”

 

“That’s-” Akira had no argument, too baffled that it was even a concern. “You’re still my best friend, Kageyama, you know that.”

 

“I do,” Kageyama agreed. He knelt down on the other side of the fissure, close enough for Akira to reach out and touch. That sad look was still on his face. “I’ll never be able to be what he is, you know.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, I can’t replace him,” Kageyama said. “I can’t be your first love, I can’t be your first friend. I don’t have the same inside jokes, and I’m not as good at people as he is. I’m not as good at anything as he is, really. I can’t be the kind of friend he is to you. I can only be me. Our friendship will be different from yours.”

 

“That’s not a bad thing,” said Akira. “I thought that was a very good thing.”

 

“I thought so too,” said Kageyama. “I’ve never had a friend like you.”

 

“You have friends,” Akira chided. “I’m sorry for what I said before, but it wasn’t true. You have so many people at school who love you, Kageyama.

 

“Yeah, and I love them. But none of them are you. None of them stuck with me like you have, or went to the lengths you’ve gone to.” Kageyama’s eyes sparkled. “None of them love me the way you do.”

 

“No one will ever love you the way I do,” Akira said. “People may love you just as much, but no one will ever love you more.”

 

“I know.” Akira couldn’t stand it any longer. He threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around Kageyama’s shoulders. The earth began to rumble below them as the fissure sealed itself shut. The world was peaceful, everything set to rights as it should have been long before. There was nothing but the still ocean and the sound of windchimes.

 

And then the earth buckled and Akira was thrown backwards, away from Kageyama and onto the cold sand of the beach. His ears rang as the stars blurred overhead. A great weight settled onto his chest, pushing him down. Breath tore through his lungs and his heart pounded in his chest, every single motion of life a deliberate, debilitating thing. He didn’t think he could move if he tried.

 

“What’s happening?” cried Iwaizumi. His voice was dull and tinny, like it was echoing from a great distance. The stars winked out one by one and the ground trembled harder. Voices flooded Akira’s mind.

 

… _never meant to hurt anyone._

 

_Should have thought about that before._

 

_I was just a kid._

 

_So was I._

 

The voices grew louder and louder until they were all Akira could hear. The fabric of the world warped and twisted, then fell away entirely. Akira was lying on his back on the floor of a school gymnasium, staring up at the rafters and a row of carnival booths. Through great effort, he turned his head and saw the ring toss booth where Kageyama had first crippled Oikawa. Iwaizumi was huddled over Kindaichi a few feet away. Kageyama and Oikawa stood on either end of the aisle, staring at each other. A fissure broke the floor in half.

 

_-*-_


	51. Chapter 51

Darkness was settling around the hillside as Yuutarou approached the shrine. The last time he had been here, it had been light out, and he had not been alone. Kunimi had been there, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi and Kageyama. They had stopped at this torii and Oikawa had warned them of things more powerful than they could ever hope to be. Yuutaoru remembered the torii, but not the rest of the trip. He couldn’t remember why they had come or what they had found. A grim foreboding settled over his shoulders and he pressed on up the steps.

 

At the top of the steps was the shrine, stately and old and silent. There were windchimes hanging everywhere in the entry courtyard, but no wind to stir them. It was massive, more of a temple than a mere shrine, large enough to fit an a small apartment building in this courtyard. And in the very center, facing him as though it had been waiting for him, was a small brown fox wearing a collar with a glittering green stone.

 

Deja vu flooded over Yuutarou as he looked at the fox. It had been here before, and Kunimi had bowed to it. It had led them on a winding path through the shrine and the surrounding forest, through places so beautiful it had made Yuutarou’s head spin. It had been playing with them.

 

Yuutarou bowed awkwardly and looked up at the fox. He took a deep breath and hoped his memory was leading him in the right direction. “I’ve come for help,” he said softly. “I’m looking for my missing memories. I wish an audience with the caretakers of this shrine.”

 

The fox considered him with its head tilted, then turned and walked through the open door of the shrine. For a moment, Yuutarou found he could not move. Then he stepped forward and followed the fox. It led him through the first two rooms of the shrine, into an open space with a large table and several cushions. A woman with long golden hair sat at the table, and the fox trotted over to her side. She smiled and stroked its fur, then looked up at Yuutarou.

 

“I was wondering when you would arrive,” she said. “My sweet here has been waiting for you for days, ever since we heard from our little sister that you completed work on your spell. We expected you to put the pieces together much more quickly.”

 

Yuutarou took a seat at the table, folding his legs under him. He considered the woman. “I remember you,” he said, “but only a little. I remember that there were two other women, and you told us how to cast a spell. But I don’t remember why we came here, or anything else. Can you help me?”

 

“You’re not at all as far along as I expected,” said the woman. “What brought you here?”

 

“I had brunch with my friend’s mother, and I remembered her from my childhood, but not him,” Yuutarou explained. “As far as I know, I only met him this past winter. And yet I know I visited this shrine with him. Please, ma’am, I only want to know why this is happening to me, and if I can fix it.”

 

“You were here, nearly ten years ago,” the woman said. “You came with four others, seeking to reverse the effects of a spell gone awry. I suspect it is the reversal itself that erased your memories.”

 

“What can I do to get them back?” Yuutarou asked. The woman sighed and looked down at the fox.

 

“It was a powerful magic that took your memories,” she said. “And only a powerful magic can undo something like that. It is why, when we heard of your spell, we were hopeful. We invited you to Yoshikawa Industries in order to guide you in a direction that may lead you here. However, we had hoped that both of you would be here. Tell me, where is the other boy? Kunimi?”

 

“I don’t know,” Yuutarou said, bewildered. “That’s why I need your help. Kageyama said to go to the place where I lost my memories, but I don’t know where that is. I think something bad may have happened to him.”

 

“The place where you lost your memories is not far from here,” said the woman. “You have been there before, many times. However, it is late, and the journey is not safe after dark. You are welcome to spend the night here and begin in the morning. I will have one of the others bring you food.”

 

With that, she stood and swept from the room, the little brown fox following close on her heels. Yuutarou felt her absence like a hole in his chest, clean, painless, but undeniable. Without her, the overbearing energy of the shrine pressed down on his chest and he found it hard to breathe. The walls seemed to grow tighter around him, the air turning stale and sharp all at once. Yuutarou’s heart seemed to both slow and pound out of control. His palms began to sweat and his vision to blur. A cold hand touched the crown of his head.

 

“Sorry,” said a tall woman with long, dark hair. “This place can be overwhelming if you are not used to it. You should feel better if you eat.” She placed a tray of food on the table and without so much as another look at Yuutarou she left. Yuutarou shook his head in an attempt to clear it and picked up a piece of bread from the tray.

 

True to her words, the moment the food touched Yuutarou’s lips he felt better. He devoured the bread, and then the rest of the food, so quickly he barely processed what he was eating. The tray was clean within moments and a heavy sleepiness settled over Yuutarou. He fluffed a couple of the pillows and flopped over with a yawn. He drifted off into a series of dreams.

 

-

 

Yuutarou was nine and the world was laid out at his feet. His magic had finally grown strong enough to warrant training in a magical academy, his dream since he had first understood the difference between magi and ordinary humans. His backpack was full of brand new school supplies, bought by a mother who was just as ecstatic as him to see him going to a magical school at last. He hitched it a little higher as he walked into the classroom.

 

There was a boy sitting in the desk in the corner, isolated from all the other students who chattered with one another about their plans for the upcoming summer. From the way the other students ignored him, Yuutarou could tell it was a usual arrangement, something that had been going on for years. He could just ignore the boy and everything would be fine. But there was something about him, about the quiet aura he possessed, that made Yuutarou want to risk everything. He set his jaw and squared his shoulders and set off across the room.

 

Yuutarou was nine and his entire world was about to begin.

 

-

 

Yuutarou was ten and about to have his first sleepover at Kunimi’s house. He had had sleepovers at friends’ houses before, but for some reason this one made him nervous. He hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from his old school, so really Kunimi was his only close friend now. If something went wrong, there would be no one for Yuutarou to turn to.

 

But he was being ridiculous. He knocked on the Kunimis’ door and it opened a spare moment later. Kunimi’s mother smiled at him and opened the door wider to let him in.

 

“It’s good to see you, Kindaichi-kun,” she said. “Akira has been waiting for this all week.”

 

“Mother!” came a scandalized voice from the living room. Kunimi-san laughed and ruffled Yuutarou’s hair.

 

Yuutarou was ten and his world was beginning to revolve around Kunimi.

 

-

 

Yuutarou was eleven and exhausted. He had watched a movie about love and all sorts of other things that he didn’t really understand or care about, but there had been this one part that had caught his attention. The main characters had stayed up all night on the eve of one of them having to leave the country forever, just so they could watch the sunset together. He had been swept up in the adventure of it, the lust for life and the romance of it all and decided he wanted to give it a shot, just once.

 

He had tried to convince Kunimi to do it with him. He had gotten as far as procuring an agreement that was probably more appeasement than anything else, but that would work just fine for him. They had climbed up on the roof with pillows and blankets and made themselves a nest to watch the stars. Kunimi had fallen asleep around nine, slumped against Yuutaoru’s shoulder.

 

It was five-thirty now, and the first rays of sun were just peeking over the horizon. Yuutarou wanted to shout with how alive he felt. He shook Kunimi awake so he could share the feeling with him.

 

Yuutarou was eleven, and the world was his to take.

 

-

 

Yuutarou was twelve and the guys in his class wanted to go to the arcade. They invited him along as an afterthought, not expecting him to say yes. Yuutarou wasn’t sure why that didn’t hurt more than it did.

 

“Who cares?” Kunimi droned, draped lazily across his desk. “The arcade is loud and annoying and all the games are rigged.”

 

“I’m pretty good at claw machines,” Yuutarou said with a shrug. “Anyway, I just meant it was weird. Don’t most people want to be included?”  


“Dunno,” Kunimi replied. “Besides, if you were going out with them, you wouldn’t be able to come over and play that new game you wanted to try.”

 

Kunimi made a good point, Yuutarou decided, and went back to copying the answers to the math homework.

 

Yuutarou was twelve, and his world was comfortably built for two.

 

-

 

Yuutarou was thirteen, and the world was burning.

 

Kunimi stood on the other side of their teacher’s barrier spell, surrounded by his own fire. He cried out in terror and anguish, sinking to his knees and clutching at his head, and Yuutarou couldn’t get to him. He screamed Kunimi’s name, pounding against the edges of the spell, looking for any weak point he could slip himself through.

 

He covered the field in dahlias after, so Kunimi would never see the evidence of what he’d done.

 

The next day, Yuutarou went to Kunimi’s house to find out why he hadn’t answered any of his calls. The lights were all off and no one answered his knock, but he knew they were inside. He could hear Kunimi shushing his mother, could hear his best friend saying without words that he wasn’t wanted. Yuutarou turned and left.

 

He came back the next day, and this time the house truly was empty.

 

Yuutarou was thirteen, and his world was crashing down around him.

 

-

 

Yuutarou was twenty-three and he woke in the shrine on the hillside with tears in his eyes. An entire childhood with Kunimi, years of friendship, and he hadn’t remembered a thing. They had been each other’s everything once, but when they had met again earlier that year, they had been virtual strangers. Kunimi must have remembered him, and yet he had kept silent. All so Yuutarou could stay safe from the hole in his memories.

 

Dawn light filtered in through the window set high in the wall. Yuutarou had to find Kunimi. He had to find him and tell him he was sorry for everything he had put him through, for the burden he’d forced him to carry alone.

 

He had to find him and tell him he loved him.

 

Yuutarou stood and walked out of the shrine. He paused at the gate, turning back to face the brown fox sitting in the middle of the courtyard.

 

“Thank you,” he said with a bow. “Thank you for everything.” The fox nodded, then turned and disappeared into the shrine. Yuutarou continued on his way.

 

-

 

Akira was trapped under the weight of magic that he couldn’t comprehend, swirling around in a cloud of dust and light and psychic energy. Laughter filled the air, bitter and cruel.

 

“I always knew you would end up dragging me back here,” Oikawa hissed. “I always knew, if I opened up to you, it would only lead back here. That’s what I get for trying to be the bigger person I guess.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Kageyama said. “It should be over. The magic went into Kunimi and then out of him and-”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Oikawa snapped. “Get it through your thick skull already. The magic’s mine now, and there’s nothing you can do to-”

 

Iwaizumi smacked him upside the head. The world shuddered and some of the weight lifted off of Akira’s chest.

 

“What’s happening?” Oikawa asked, his voice growing small.

 

“It’s okay,” said Kageyama. He sounded older and more certain than Akira had ever heard him. He took a step forward, coming to the edge of the fissure. “It’s okay, Oikawa-san. Just give me your hand.”

 

“I… I can’t,” Oikawa said. “Not- not here.”

 

“You have to,” Kageyama insisted. “You have to give me my magic back. It’s too much for you.”

 

“I can’t!” Oikawa cried. “If I give it back, you’ll only ruin me with it again!”

 

“I was a child!” Kageyama roared. “I was a little kid, I didn’t know what was happening! I know I hurt you, but you can’t keep blaming me for something I had no control over!”

 

“I was too!” Oikawa said. “You have no idea what it was like, trying to recover from that!”

 

“I’m sorry.” Everything went still and there was no sound, not even the rush of Akira’s breath. Kageyama stood with his hands held loosely at his sides, looking down at the fissure. “I hurt you,” he said. “I ruined your life. I didn’t mean to, but that doesn’t mean the damage I did was any less. And more than that, I ruined our friendship. I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry too.” It was the last thing Akira expected to hear, but Oikawa took a step forward. “I’m trying to stay mad at you, Tobio, so will you please stop making that difficult?”

 

“I live to make your life difficult,” Kageyama replied. Oikawa made an expression that was somewhere between a grimace and a smile. He shook his head.

 

“I could have made all this easier on you,” he said. “Instead of holding a grudge and telling everyone what a monster you were, I could’ve forgiven you a long time ago. But I held on to all that anger, and whenever I could, I took it out on you. I’m sorry for that.”

 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Kageyama said. Oikawa shook his head.

 

“Stop that, you brat,” he said. “Not everything’s about you. I get some of the blame too.”

 

“Can we be friends again?” Kageyama’s shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller.

 

“I don’t know,” Oikawa said. “But we can be not-enemies, for a start. Maybe see where we go from there.”

 

“I’d like that.” Akira couldn’t see his face, but he thought Kageyama was smiling. He reached out a hand and Oikawa took it. All at once the fissure rumbled and grew smaller. It winked out of existence entirely, and the beach appeared once more. Akira caught sight of lanterns and stars and the backside of the festival, before he blacked out.

 

-

 

Akira woke to the sun streaming through the window of Kageyama’s parents’ guest room. Kageyama was in the bed with him, curled tightly against his side with one hand fisted in his shirt. For a moment, Akira was flooded with a strange certainty that everything was all right. He basked in it for as long as he could, then shook Kageyama awake.

 

“What happened?” he asked.

 

“You passed out,” Kageyama replied. “Iwaizumi-san carried you back here. You’ve been asleep for a day and a half.”

 

“And Kindaichi?” Kageyama made a face.

 

“Kindaichi went home,” he said. “Back to your hometown. He said…”

 

“What?” Akira sat up. “Kageyama, what did he say?”

 

“He said it was too dangerous to hang around us anymore, that he was leaving before he got hurt again.” Kageyama didn’t meet Akira’s eyes, his voice reluctant and his shoulders hunched. His words stabbed through Akira’s chest, but a part of him was unsurprised. He was dangerous, after all, and his new friends were even more so. “I’m sorry,” Kageyama whispered. “He was supposed to be your best friend.”

 

Akira shook his head and made a decision. He took Kageyama’s hand and twined their fingers together. _Like I said,_ he thought at him, reveling in the fact that he could do that again. _You are my best friend._

 

_But-_

 

 _But nothing,_ Akira interrupted. _If he was scared off by that then he made the right choice. Being around us is scary. But I wouldn_ _’t trade it for the world. You’re stuck with me now._

 

“My parents are going out of the country for the rest of the summer,” Kageyama said. “They said it would be best if we went back to school, to make sure we don’t get into any trouble while they’re gone.” Akira snorted.

 

“Well then we’d better get packing,” he said. “You check what time the train leaves.”

 

“Akira?” He looked up just in time for Kageyama to throw his arms around his neck. He sent a flood of emotion Akira’s way, gratitude and love and sorrow for what Akira had lost. Akira sent back his own love and held Kageyama tight.

 

“Come on,” he whispered into silky black hair, holding his entire world in his arms. “Let’s go home.”

 

-*-


	52. Chapter 52

Yuutarou made the journey back to the beach town without really noticing it. He paused at the tree, the first one he had ever grown, standing tall and proud among the sparse grass and boulders. He took a moment to touch his hand to the trunk and feel the thrum of familiar magic, just to make sure it was really the same tree. When his own magic surged up to greet him, he turned away and started walking faster than before, even more determined to get to Kunimi. As soon as he caught sight of the ocean he broke into a run. He didn’t know what was driving him onward, but he had to get to the shore, and quickly. He passed his aunt’s shop and tourists on bicycles and the old man with his ice cream cart and a dozen other childhood sights, headed for the spot on the beach where it all fell a part, the spot on the beach where Kunimi was.

 

And Kunimi _was_ there. He was sitting on the beach with his knees drawn to his chest, watching the ocean. Yuutarou skidded to a stop several feet away, staring at the back of his head. He was so beautiful, even more so than he had been the day before. He turned slowly, his eyes growing wide when he caught sight of Yuutarou, and promptly burst into tears.

 

“Kunimi!” cried Yuutarou, throwing himself to his knees beside him. “Kunimi, what’s wrong?”

 

“I can’t,” Kunimi sobbed. “I can’t do this.”

 

“Can’t do what?” Yuutarou asked. He wrapped his arms around Kunimi’s shoulders. Kunimi hesitated for a moment, then slumped into his hold.

 

“I can’t be with you,” he whispered. “I can’t even keep being your friend. Not if it’s going to put you in danger.”

 

“I can’t believe you,” Yuutarou chuckled. Kunimi stiffened.

 

“Did you not hear what I just-”

 

“No, I heard you,” Yuutarou interrupted. “I heard you making the decision for me again. Just like it was made for me when we were kids. I think it’s my turn to make this choice, don’t you?”

 

“When we were… Kindaichi, you…” Kunimi shoved his way out of Yuutarou’s arms and stared at him. Yuutarou smiled softly, reaching up to touch the soft, warm skin of Kunimi’s cheek.

 

“I remember,” he said. “I remember everything. I know what happened when we were kids, I know what you did to protect me, and I know what it’s cost you. But you don’t have to hide anymore. I remember you, Akira.”

 

“I remember you too,” Kunimi said. “After Kageyama went to see Oikawa-san, he came and found me and made me take all my memories back. I was so angry with him, but I guess he knew it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

 

“Nothing matters anymore,” Yuutaoru agreed, and it was true. Nothing mattered, nothing at all, but the smell of salt, the sound of the waves, and Kunimi safe and vibrant under Yuutarou’s fingertips. He was so close, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss. Close as he had been a thousand times before, but Yuutarou had been too blind or too afraid to see it. “Nothing matters,” he repeated, and leaned in.

 

The touch of Kunimi’s lips was everything Yuutarou had been dreaming of, and so much more. They were chapped, they were warm, they were darting open in surprise. And then Kunimi was kissing him back and everything mattered, and nothing at all.

 

-

 

It was a two hour train ride back to their apartment. Yuutarou took the aisle seat so that he could watch Kunimi pretend to watch the view outside while actually watching Yuutarou through the reflection in the window. Their hands were clasped together between their thighs, as though both of them were afraid the other would disappear if they let go. Yuutarou stroked his thumb over the warmth of Kunimi’s knuckles and bit back a sigh. Kunimi turned to look at him and his breath caught in his throat.

 

“What’s wrong?” Kunimi asked.

 

“Nothing,” said Yuutarou.

 

“Kindaichi.”

 

“I was just thinking…” Yuutarou looked down at his knees. “We lost so much time because I forgot. We could have had this years ago if it weren’t for me.”

 

“That wasn’t your fault,” Kunimi said. “And besides, maybe it was supposed to happen this way. Maybe we would never have gotten here if we hadn’t met as strangers. Maybe we needed the time apart to find out how much we were meant to be together.” Yuutarou grinned at him. “What?”

 

“You think we’re meant to be together,” he said. Kunimi rolled his eyes and smacked him with his free hand.

 

“I think we’re meant to be together,” he agreed. “It’s like Oikawa-san is always saying. Some souls are drawn to one another.”

 

“That was beautiful,” Yuutarou sniffed. “I’ll be sure to tell him you think he’s right.”

 

“Don’t you dare,” Kunimi threatened. “I know where you sleep.”

 

“What would you do?” Yuutarou asked. “You’re too lazy for revenge.”

 

“I am,” Kunimi agreed. “I’ll just have to come up with something else.”

 

“Like what?” Yuutarou asked. Kunimi smiled and leaned his head against Yuutarou’s shoulder.

 

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” he said. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

 

“You’re right,” Yuutarou said, leaning his cheek on Kunimi’s head. “I can’t wait to see what the rest of forever brings.”

 

“Sap.”

 

-*-

 

Kageyama’s parents’ apartment was as quiet and empty as it had always been when Akira let himself in one day at the end of summer break. He found Kageyama sitting on the bed in the guest room, looking out the window at the shitty view of the next building over. Akira settled next to him, and for a long time he let the silence stretch on.

 

 _Do you need anything?_ Akira didn’t. _Just company?_ Just Kageyama’s company. Kageyama bumped his shoulder into Akira’s.

 

“You lied to me,” Akira said. “When Kindaichi went away when we were kids. He left because he didn’t remember anything, and because you and Iwaizumi sent him home. But you told me he left because he didn’t want anything to do with me.”

 

“I did,” Kageyama admitted.

 

“And you cleaned up the edges, took away the memories he had left over, so that he wouldn’t hurt himself.”

 

“I did.”

 

“You did it to protect him.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Does anyone else know?”

 

Kageyama sighed. “You and Iwaizumi-san each have your own memories of what happened. Iwaizumi-san had Tooru’s for a long time, but he’s got them back now. No one else knows what I did.”

 

Kageyama looked like he was ready for Akira to scold him, to yell and throw things and set the apartment on fire, which was ridiculous. If anyone understood Kageyama, it was Akira. So instead of scolding and yelling and throwing things and setting the apartment on fire, Akira threw his arms around Kageyama’s neck and hauled him close.

 

“Thank you,” he breathed against Kageyama’s shoulder.

 

“What?”

 

Akira was too full for words. He shook his head and pressed his face harder into Kageyama’s shirt. _You protected him. Thank you._

 

_I only did it so my magic wouldn_ _’t slip back into him-_

 

Akira pulled back and shook his head. “I don’t mean taking his memories,” he said. “I mean never telling anyone. You kept this on your own, and you didn’t tell a soul for so many years, all to keep him safe.”

 

“You love him,” Kageyama said with a shrug, as if that explained everything.

 

And in a way, Akira supposed it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. Thank you so much to everyone who took this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. this is by far my favorite thing I've ever written, and I hope it shows.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://notsuchasecret.tumblr.com)


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